A Whole New World
by Nia River
Summary: ABANDONED. The war drags on and those remaining loyal to Harry fall one by one. In the end only Harry and Neville are left standing. So, when an unexpected opportunity arises to start over in another world as brothers, the two jump at the chance.
1. Prologue: Devastation and Loss

**Story Info**

**Title**: A Whole New World

**Author**: Nia River

**Fandom**: Harry Potter

**Rating**: T/PG13 (Possibly some mild coarse language, violence and very vague references to adult themes. Nothing too graphic.)

**Genre**: General (could also possibly go under drama.)

**Pairings:** Past: Neville/Luna, Dobby/Winky; Present: none shown as of yet.

**Summary**: The war against Voldemort has raged on for many years and those remaining loyal to Harry have fallen, one by one. In the end Harry and Neville find themselves as the last ones of their friends left standing. And so, when an unexpected opportunity arises for the two to start over in another world as brothers, they quickly jump at the chance.

**Also, please note**:  
- There will be Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione bashing. Don't like? Don't read. (You have been warned).  
- FYI, my writing style is rather slow paced (once again, you've been warned).  
- Nothing from the books HBP or DH (including the Hocruxes) will be included in my writing as I've only read up to OoTP.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

_AN: Edited on 30th March 2008._

* * *

**Prologue – Devastation and Loss**

For the first time in a very long while, twenty-five year old Harry James Potter was feeling just a little bit hopeful, and – given the devastating events of recent years – that fact was really rather remarkable.

Ever since the resurrection of Voldemort in his fourth year at Hogwarts, the state of affairs in the wizarding world had only gone from bad to worse. First had been the debacle in the Department of Mysteries. Whilst technically it had been a victory – in that several Death Eaters were captured and the Ministry had finally publicly acknowledged to Voldemort's return – it had also been a tragedy. They had lost Sirius that day.

After that things had deteriorated rapidly. No longer concerned with hiding, Voldemort had stepped up attacks. Assaults on Muggle-borns and those related or sympathetic to them soon became commonplace. Rare was the day that at least one Hogwarts student did not receive a black ribboned Ministry letter bearing unfortunate news.

The Dark Lord, quickly growing bored with the repetitiveness of his own attacks, soon began launching assaults on wizarding gatherings. Quidditch matches especially became far too dangerous and soon enough the decision was made to cancel the League entirely. Next, Voldemort started hitting more key places such as Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade.

Diagon Alley managed to survive through three small scale assaults before the Dark Lord Voldemort had led an attack on the Alley personally. What had once stood as the centre point of British wizarding economy was left in ruins and many lives were lost. Ever since then, it had remained closed to all but those who were brave – or stupid – enough to make their way through the rubble to reach Gringotts and access their vaults.

Despite the clear devastation of the wizarding world Voldemort's campaign had not occurred unchecked. There had been several groups which opposed him; chiefly the Order of the Phoenix. The ever inept Ministry had put up nought but a token defence; unsurprising given that Minister Fudge had been on Lucius Malfoy's payroll. The Malfoy patriarch had at one stage – following the battle at the Department of Mysteries – been arrested for Death Eater involvement, but his imprisonment had not lasted overlong before he bribed his way out.

Soon after Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade had been destroyed, and just two years ago there had been a great battle at Hogwarts. There were casualties too numerous to count on both sides before the castle fell. Since then the Order and any other resistances had gone underground, striking where they could but making very little difference. Though no one said it aloud they all knew the war was lost. But, so long as they had something to fight for, fight they would.

The same had been true for Harry. Despite splitting from the Order and his so-called friends early on in the conflicts, there were a few who remained loyal to him – primarily Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Fred and George Weasley and the house-elves Dobby and Winky. There were others of course; many of those opposed to Voldemort, the Ministry and the Order also had banded together to form a resistance of their own. Still, none meant as much to him as those six did. They were his 'something to fight for'. Unfortunately however, his circle of friends had not come through unscathed; one by one they too had fallen.

The first had been Dobby, in the battle of Hogwarts, struck down by a killing curse from Draco Malfoy's wand. The curse had in actuality been intended for Harry but Dobby – ever brave and ever loyal Dobby – had thrown himself into the green light's path without a second thought. Winky, who had only ever followed them into battle to heal the wounded – unable to work past her house-elf conditioning never to harm a witch or wizard – was devastated. The once gentle elf had in that moment cast aside her pacifistic ways and became a force to be reckoned with. She took down Dobby's killer, along with a number of other Death Eaters that day.

Fred and George were the next to fall. They went down together – as was only right - a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts, ambushed in the ruins of Diagon Alley. Winky, who had been with them, was severely injured but had nonetheless managed to return with their bodies and proudly report that the three of them had taken down their twenty-five Death Eater attackers.

Winky lasted two more nights before complications from her injuries claimed her life.

Devastation after devastation, loss after loss; it had begun to seem as though there was no hope or happiness left in the world. Then one evening Luna and Neville came to him with news that brought light to the darkness that had become their lives. Neville had proposed. Since the Ministry of Magic was by that stage mostly fallen or corrupt, they had held a private ceremony which, while not legally binding, was as real as could be in the hearts of the three friends. Their happiness however proved short lived.

Some months after the wedding their intelligence network received word of an upcoming Death Eater gathering. Harry, Neville and Luna along with several of their fellows from the Resistance had shown up, only to find that the Order of the Phoenix were there fighting as well.

Although Remus Lupin had chosen to remain loyal to Dumbledore, Harry still held a great affection for the werewolf and thus was greatly saddened to see him fall that night to the silver hand of Wormtail. He was hopeful however that the man had died with some measure of peace, having succeeded in taking the traitor with him.

The night continued, only getting worse. It seemed none other than his ex-friends Ron and Hermione had departed to notify Dumbledore to his presence. The two returned at the end of the battle with the Headmaster who tried to capture him, determined to regain control of his 'weapon'. With Neville and Luna's help he managed to fight off the Order and they escaped with only minor curses. Or so they had thought.

Harry and Neville had Apparated back into their hideout to find Luna curled up on the floor in a pool of blood. Worried and with no idea what was wrong, they did their best to help her. The Death Eaters had not landed any hits on her and the few curses she had received from the Order members were mostly harmless. And so, they were at a loss as to why she was so injured.

Regrettably whilst those curses would not have usually done permanent damage, Luna had a secret. What should have been cause for celebration was cause for grief as she told Neville that she had recently found out she was with child. However, it seemed the aggressive nature of the curses had managed to upset the fragile balance of her pregnant body's magic and she was losing the baby.

The two sat with her through the night as the child was lost. Unable to do anything but be there for her, Neville held close the woman who had become his wife and Harry the woman who had become his sister. As dawn touched the horizon Luna suddenly grabbed their hands and delivered to them a message which would change the course of their lives, although they did not yet know it. Soon after imparting her message her eyes began to droop and then Luna Longbottom became still as she followed her child silently into death.

..ooOOoo..

**Reviews make me happy (hint, hint).**


	2. Chapter 1: Rituals and a One Way Trip

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

_AN: Edited on 30th March 2008_

**Note**: Continues on directly from the Prologue which was Harry's reminiscences.

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Rituals and a One Way Trip**

**Sun, 18/9/2005**

At the sound of footsteps Harry was shaken from his memories and looked up to see the shadowed form of his closest friend framed in the doorway; Neville Frank Longbottom.

Neville had changed considerably from the clumsy, forgetful boy that Harry had started out Hogwarts with. Once short, the passing of time had seen him grow to an impressive height. Once chubby, years of constantly training and fighting had lent him a rugged, muscled build. Rounded boyish features were also changed; he now bore a strong, square jaw and numerous scars covered his face and body. All in all he was rather tough in appearance; an assessment undermined only by his kind smiles and gentle nature.

Harry winced then smiled fondly as his friend stepped into the room and tripped down the steps. All other changes aside, the clumsiness of his earlier years was unfortunately still with him.

"Damn it, where did I put that chalk?"

As was the forgetfulness.

Harry rose and stalked over to his confused brother – the grace of a skilled fighter ever-present in his movements – and grabbed at the box of chalk hanging out his pocket.

"This what you're looking for Nev?"

Harry removed a piece of the much needed white calcite from its box. Neville meanwhile, gave the chalk a short glare before nodding in an annoyed manner.

"One of these days-" he said and Harry finished the often heard declaration.

"- you'll grow out of this," he paused and smirked, "_phase_."

"Oh, shut up Potter," he snatched a piece of chalk from the box and turned towards the room, "Now, where do you want me?"

Glancing up, he referred to the meticulous writings on the blackboard at the front of the room; Luna's last great achievement.

Over the course of the war many a discovery had come from the insane genius of Luna Lovegood. Not held back by the common assumptions of what was and was not possible, she had made a number of magical breakthroughs, particularly in the area of Ancient Runes; specifically Runic rituals.

This breakthrough in particular had been finished shortly before her death. So soon in fact that she had not even had the time to tell them of it personally before she died, only to give them the password to her laboratory and instructions to read the letter on the desk. It had been a few months after she was gone before the two could bear to enter her lab and read the letter. Harry could still remember by heart what it said and was sure that Neville could as well. It had read:

_To my best boys,_

_If you are reading this then I am dead. I am sorry if that seems overly dramatic but it must be true. After all the only way you would be able to get into my lab without my password was if the Fobbister let you in and everyone knows they only obey witches with purple eyes and six toes on their right foot._

The boys had had a good if sad laugh at that completely Luna-ish comment.

_I was meaning to tell you both about my discovery tonight but then the Death Eater meeting came up. It seems that fate is set against us. It's a pity; I was hoping to go with you both. Not to the meeting but to the other place, because I am sure I went to the meeting. After all if I didn't then you wouldn't be reading this letter. Unless of course one of you really is purple eyed and eleven-toed with a rather large secret. It would have to be Harry of course because I'm fairly sure I would have noticed on our wedding night if my Neville didn't have a-_

At that, Neville had blushed crimson and slipped off his chair. The letter had continued on in Luna style, extolling her husband's many admirable qualities before veering off onto several other tangents – including but not limited to candy floss, Bowtruckles, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and some rather questionable suggestion for the use of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks – before coming back to the point.

_My latest research has been on trans-dimensional travel. No one wants to admit it but the truth is undeniable. Augureys flock to Britain, foretelling uncountable deaths and the Gigglewicks are burrowing underground, a portent of the rising of the dark and the ruination of the light. We are losing the war._

_If this idea works you will both be able to travel to another world and start over. The world will be somewhat similar to ours but with some minor differences, although I can't tell what they may be. Also, there will be no way to return. I'd say think this over carefully but I know my boys are reckless Gryffindors at heart._

_Instructions and diagrams for the ritual are on the blackboard. So long as you follow them precisely everything should go as planned. Rest assured there is only a 0.031 percent chance that you will instead erase your souls from all dimensions, a 0.017 percent chance of you landing a dimension so fundamentally different that your human bodies are incapable of survival and a 0.004 percent chance of completely destroying the fabric of existence. Good luck and fun travels._

The boys had blanched at these possibilities but it seemed Luna knew them quite well, as they had quickly decided to go through with it nevertheless

_Oh also, since alternate versions of yourselves may or may not exist in the other world I have created another ritual. Details are on the smaller blackboard behind the filing cabinet. And I suggest you both make a large withdrawal from Gringotts before you go. No point in going to all the trouble of travelling to another world only to find yourselves destitute._

_Remember to wash behind your ears and always wear clean underwear._

_Love from,_

_Luna_

_P.S. Boys, don't miss me too much. Recall me fondly as I shall watch over you both. Remember Neville, you are the love of my heart, Harry you are the brother of my heart. Always. I love you both._

With a sigh Harry focussed his attention back on the task at hand once again. Neville – still stood before him – was giving him an understanding look, knowing how easy it was to get lost in thoughts of the past these days. Smiling sadly back he shook his head and looked around the lab.

Most of the equipment and furniture in the room was pushed back against the far wall, leaving only the two blackboards Luna had spoken of and a whole lot of clear floor space. Or rather what had been clear floor space.

Over the last three hours Harry had steadily worked from one side of the room to the other, covering the previously clean floor in complex and detailed chalk markings. The markings in question showed exact copies of the two rituals displayed on the blackboards, only on a larger scale.

Looking away from his work he cracked his aching back and stretched his hand before kneeling back down in front of the larger ritual, putting chalk to cement.

"I'm actually nearly finished this one and the other one's already done," he finally said to Neville as he referred to the large blackboard and continued drawing, "Could you maybe start double checking that one for me? Second set of eyes and all that, just to make sure I haven't made any mistakes anywhere?"

"Sure, no problem," Neville said, dropping the packet of chalk he had brought off to the side and approached the smaller ritual.

They worked together in relative silence, the only sounds Neville's carefully footsteps – cautious so as not to smudge any of the runes – and the scratching sound of Harry's chalk on the cement floor.

It wasn't much later when Harry let out a satisfied sigh and leaned back on his haunches. His companion, who finished also after a moment, looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"Done?"

"Yep, finally."

"Want me to check that one as well?"

"Yeah if you can," Harry nodded

Getting up, the ebony haired man walked over to the wall and then slid down to the floor in a relaxed sitting position. His idle hands played with the remainder of his piece of chalk as he watched his friend meticulously check over his work. The silence resumed for some time

"So," Harry said, suddenly remembering just where Neville had been whilst he was working, "How'd the errands go?"

"Fine," Neville murmured most of his attention clearly on what he was doing.

"Didn't run into much trouble?"

"Nope. Pair of Death Eaters was wandering about the Alley when I was scavenging for that chalk of yours. No problems though. Had the cloak and silencing charms on – all the usual. They didn't notice a thing."

"Good," Harry nodded, "And at the bank?"

Neville snorted and looked over momentarily to give a smirk.

"Bank was almost empty and the guard Goblins looked like they were there for more than show – but that's to be expected in these times I suppose."

"Then what was the laugh about?" he asked, a frown on his face and head tilted curiously to the side.

"Weeellllll," Neville continued to draw the word out until his friend lost all patience and chucked the piece of chalk at his head, "Alright, alright, I'll tell! The Goblins were about as pleasant or rather unpleasant as usual… until they found out why I was there."

"Let me guess," Harry smiled, catching on, "They simultaneously burst into tears."

"Pretty close to it. Kept begging me to change my mind then they switched to trying to bribe me," his smiled faded to be replaced by a frown, "One of the Goblins though – Grellnick or something – kept going on about wasn't there anything he could do to change my mind. He was disturbingly suggestive about it, if you know what I mean."

He gave a vaguely revolted shudder and Harry tried to look sympathetic. He really did try. Understandably the effort only lasted a couple of seconds before he burst into raucous laughter. Huffing in annoyance but unable to completely hide a small smile at seeing his friend laughing – such genuine, unrestrained happiness was a rare thing in these times – Neville finished checking the last of the ritual whilst Harry calmed down some.

"Well," he said finally, nodding, "This all looks right to me, just the candles and dagger left."

"Good," mostly calm now, only a few snickers broke through.

"Well, if you've finished laughing at me," another snicker caused him to sigh, "I'll just pretend you are. I have something for you here," he dug into his pockets coming out with two small boxes no bigger than a deck of playing cards, "I believe you ordered one Potter family fortune," he spoke, mimicking a Muggle fast-food server as he tossed one box to Harry, then re-pocketing the other, "And one Longbottom family fortune for me."

"Ta," he caught the tossed box – a more detailed examination of which would reveal it to be a miniaturised trunk – before pocketing his as well.

"So what next?" asked Neville as he slid down to sit beside his friend.

"Well, how about names? You picked one out yet?"

When they had first looked at the smaller blackboard Luna had referred them to, they had been at first stunned and then elated. It seemed the young woman had been experimenting in the area of gene alteration. Her notes indicated that she had begun the project knowing there were many children made orphans by the war and that they may like the opportunity to be adopted not only by law, but also by blood and magic into a new family.

The original idea of the spell was to give the child a combination of the blood and in turn the appearance of their new parents. Luna however had decided to expand upon her idea, making a deviated ritual in which the change was instead a mutual one between two parties – both changing somewhat to match each other. In other words, Harry and Neville would be able to become brothers not only in their hearts but in blood as well.

It was the perfect way to disguise themselves without the risks associated with a glamour or Polyjuice. That is to say that they needn't worry about the spell being seen through or dispelled, or a potion running out. It would be permanent. Not only that but it was something they would have done anyway if given the chance.

So it was that they were both understandably very exited about the idea and had decided to also choose new names for each other. After all, there would be little point in going to the trouble of changing appearances only to be caught out by their names.

"I finally decided just yesterday," Neville said excitedly, "And you?"

"Yep, all done. Why don't you go first?"

"Well I was originally thinking Bambi or possibly Fawn, after your dad's Animagus form," at the stern glare and smack to the head he laughed and continued on more seriously "Sorry, I had to say it. Okay, seriously now. Well, for your first name I decided to go with Evan. You know, after Evans, your mother's maiden name," he looked uncertainly at Harry until the other nodded then returned his smile and continued, "And for your middle name, at first I was going to use James, for your father. But, I decided that was a bit too obvious."

"Yeah, I think so too," he agreed.

"Right. So then I decided to do something with his surname instead."

"I think 'Potter' would be a bit of a giveaway too Nev," he said sarcastically.

"I know that," he rolled his eyes, "Now shut up and listen. Anyway I couldn't find any names that meant 'a potter' or anything like that, and the only other name I could think of was Clay or Clayton, but I didn't really like that."

"Oh, good," Harry gave a relieved sigh, "Neither did I. Now hurry up and get to the point."

"You know, patience is a virtue," he told his friend who glared until he finally continued, "Okay so then I started thinking of Sirius instead and that started me thinking of the Marauders and the perfect name came to me. Foley! It's perfect because you have Evan for your mum and Foley quite literally means 'marauder', so it can count for your dad and Sirius and maybe even Professor Lupin as well," he explained then looked expectantly to his friend, hoping he would like it.

"Evan Foley," he murmured before looking up and breaking out in a huge grin, "I love it, it's perfect."

"Oh, thank Merlin. I'm glad. I took me forever to choose and if you hadn't liked it I don't know what else I could pick. Now, tell me what you chose for me."

"Leander Philip," he stated simply.

"Right," Neville said, used to his friend's habit of oversimplifying, "Any particular reason for that?

"Well, Leander means 'brave man' or 'lion man' and you are the perfect Gryffindor – brave, noble, righteous," he explained.

By the stuttering and red of the elder Gryffindor's face, he was obviously flattered and more than a little embarrassed. He had learnt some amount of grace over the years though, and after a moment managed to stop – the stuttering that is, but not so much the blushing – and smile gratefully. Giving a small, amused smile back, Harry continued.

"As for the second name, I had the same idea as you. Your mum's maiden name was Phillipson right?"

"Yeah."

"So, your middle name is Philip. Happy?"

"Yeah, I really like it. We still need a surname though," they both lapsed into thoughtful silence for a moment.

"How about Franklin?"

"Why Franklin?"

"From Frank, after your father."

"Really," he seemed excited before he deflated a bit, "No that wouldn't be fair. We can't just use my father's name and forget about yours."

"Neville," he rolled his eyes, "Relax. I already have a name from my mum and one from my dad. You only have one from your mother since Leander was about you. So, Franklin would be the best choice."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely," he nodded firmly.

Finally agreed, they both went about finishing setting up the smaller blood-brother ritual, following the directions given. Thin candles in red and white were placed in the proper positions and a ritual dagger was placed over the point joining the two small circles of runes in the centre. It was in these two circles that the two participants would be seated. Finally finished, Neville looked up to Harry for confirmation. When he nodded they both started stripping off their clothing.

The ritual required that both participants be completely naked and clean. Well, I wasn't so much a requirement as a very strong suggestion. Luna's notes had described what might happen otherwise.

…_if some foreign matter, say a woollen thread from your clothes, were to enter into the ritual you may instead find yourself sharing traits with a sheep or possibly a robe. Neither being a desirable outcome. Unless that is, you…_

In other words, they really wanted to be undressed and as clean as possible for the ritual. As they each cast strong Scourgify charms on themselves Harry looked up at his friend and gave a mock-mournful look, heaving a great sigh.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking how disappointed your Grellnick would be to know he missed the show."

"Prat!" he threw his ball of clothes and his wand at Harry who set them aside with his own and laughed unrepentantly.

Harry then stepped carefully over the runes to kneel in one of the circles and Neville copied the movement opposite him.

"Ready?" the young, green-eyed man asked.

"Um, I hope so," the other wizard replied, eyes quickly scanning over the incantation on the blackboard one last time, "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay," they both took a deep breath and locked eyes before speaking in synchronicity.

"I call upon magic, to grant my wish," the candles began lighting of their own accord as the magic in the room built up, send goose-pimples racing over their skin, "Let the brother of my heart, become the brother of my blood."

There was then a pause as Harry picked up the dagger and cut across his palm from the base of pinkie to thumb. For a moment there was nothing but a thin red line before rivulets of blood started tracing over his palm and dripping from his fingers

"Remake me, Harry James Potter, as Evan Foley Franklin," he said alone then handed the dagger to Neville who copied his actions.

"Remake me, Neville Frank Longbottom, as Leander Philip Franklin," he chanted and they clasped cut hands, blood mingling as they finished together.

"So mote it be!"

The candles flared briefly and they screamed as pain flared for but an instant, before the candles died down and they both slumped forward in exhaustion. After a few moments a moan sounded and the smaller of the two rose slowly, rubbing at his still sore eyes. Only a second later the other gave a groan also and struggled into a sitting position.

"Well, that wasn't particularly pleasant," said a mock-cheery voice and Neville looked up to give his companion a glare.

"I think that's a bit of an under-eep!"

"Under-eep?" questioned Harry, still rubbing at his eyes not knowing he was being stared at.

"Uh, Harry you might want to take a look in a mirror or something, because the ritual? Kinda worked."

"What do you me-" he paused hands half lowered and sat there blinking for a moment, "Well I'll say. You're changed as well."

"I am?"

"Yep," he jumped up and retrieved his wand and glasses before pausing, "Well, now I know why my eyes hurt as well."

"What do you mean?"

In response Harry removed the recently placed spectacles from his face, threw them to the floor and then – with a delighted grin – crushed them under the heel of the boot. The other boy gaped for a moment before speaking up.

"Er, you do realise you just destroyed your glasses – as in, the only things preventing you from having to go about blind as a bat?"

"I know," he grinned then took pity on his befuddled friend and explained, "I don't need them anymore! My eyesight must've been one of the things the ritual decided to copy from you."

"Really? That's fantastic," Neville enthused, glad for his friend.

"It really is; and more for you than me. After all there was always the chance the ritual could have done the opposite and given you my eyesight instead," then – not giving the other man time to worry over what could have occurred – he raised his wand and conjured a large mirror in front of them, "Now, what say we both take a look."

Both of them approached the mirror and then stared curiously at their new selves, taking in the changes. They most obvious detail was their eyes – because they hadn't changed at all. Harry's were still an emerald green and Neville's a sky blue.

Their hair on the other hand had changed. Both had a new colour. Harry's once black and Neville's brownish-blonde had both chosen to settle somewhere in between at a chocolate brown colour. Harry was also amused to note that although his hair still stuck up abominably, his friend's had acquired a certain messiness that hadn't been there before as well.

Build-wise neither had changed overmuch. Neville was a little less broad and not quite as tall, but the change was negligible; he was still quite muscular and imposing looking. Harry on the other hand was a just little less skinny, and his muscles more defined. He had also grown a couple of inches, but was still obviously the shorter of the two – it seemed he was doomed to never reach any sort of respectable height.

Then there were the faces. Neville seemed to have noticed that his main wish had been granted and his ears – which he had often complained about, and was now examining cheerily in the mirror – did not stick out quite as much as they used to. Other changes were more subtle such as a slightly less rigid though still square jaw line and a generally softening to his features. As for Harry the opposite seemed the case. His features were still far too delicate for his tastes, but his jaw was a tad squarer and his features a little more defined.

The last noticeable difference was in skin tone. Harry's once pale skin had changed to match Neville's - slightly tanned with light freckles across his face.

Now, standing together side by side, the two of them could not be mistaken for anything but brothers. More importantly though was that despite the changes seeming minor when taken separately, when combined together the effect was rather dramatic. Neither was ever likely to be recognised as their otherworldly counterparts, except perhaps in the vaguest of references that they bore a passing resemblance to the Longbottom and Potter families and 'were they perhaps distant cousins of a sort?'. Overall, both were quite happy with the changes.

Finally satisfied that he had properly inspected his new form, Harry walked across the room. He stumbled awkwardly at first, unused to the slight change of height, before regaining his sense of balance and leaning down to pick up the piles of clothes.

"Here," Harry threw Neville his pile, wand included, and began pulling on his trousers, "Best get changed back. Unless of course you changed your mind about inviting your Goblin friend over…"

Laughing lightly at the growl in response, he then danced out of the path of the clothes thrown his way and skipped out of the room. In the hallway outside there were four trunks leaning against the wall. One each held Harry's own and Neville's belongings, one contained the possessions they had kept from their fallen friends and in the last was packed the remainder of Luna's research notes and technical doodads from her laboratory. There were also two smaller duffle bags with the lot, containing a few essential belongings – enough for them to live out of for several days if necessary without needing to riffle through their tightly-packed trunks.

Finishing reattaching his main wand holster to his forearm, he drew his wand and waved it at the bags for their journey. With a quiet, "Reducio, Levitas," he shrunk them all down and made them feather light so that they could all be gathered up. Returning to the room he found Neville finishing buttoning up his shirt.

"Here," he handed over Neville's luggage as well as Luna's for him to carry, adding the remaining three to his own pocket with the trunk Neville had returned from Gringotts with earlier.

"Thanks," he paused purposefully, "Brother."

They both grinned at each other, high on the realisation that they were now family by blood.

"No problem, brother mine," he returned.

"So Harry, when d-"

"Evan," he interrupted, suddenly serious.

"Huh?"

"We'd best get used to using our new names. Don't want to slip up when it really matters."

"You're right," Neville nodded, agreeing, "From now on you're Evan and I'm Leander."

"Good."

"So, Evan, when do we do the other ritual? How long do you want to wait?"

"Wait?"

"Well the blood-brother ritual took a bit out of us as it was. I'd imagine travelling to another dimension would be even worse. I just thought maybe we should rest a bit," Harry stared at him and started fidgeting, "What? What have I missed?"

"Sorry," he shook his head, "It's just I though I would have told you. Must have slipped my mind. Anyway, the ritual needs to be performed at the moment of the full moon."

"When's that?"

They both glanced at the wizard's clock on the wall, reading the many hands pointing at various planets and moons.

"Tonight," he stated, "Or rather this morning, since it's after midnight."

"Tonight?" Neville said, sounding worried, "When tonight?"

"Well, it's four fifty-seven in the morning. So in about… four minutes."

"What!?" the blue-eyed man's worry had now escalated to outright panic and he started fluttering rather pointlessly about the room, "How could you not tell me? Merlin, there's so much to do. We need our gold from Gringotts-"

"You did that earlier."

"Well we have to pack-"

"Already done.

"We need to get our luggage together and-"

"What do you think those trunks were for?"

"But we still have to tell the others of the Resistance-"

"I did it last night, what did you think the party with the 'Good Luck' banner was all about?"

This continued on for some time before Harry grew tired of it. Besides, they were running out of time listening to his babbling. Marching over to his friend his grabbed hold of his shoulder with one hand and with the other, slapped him soundly across the face.

There was silence.

"You slapped me," he said in a wounded tone, a woebegone expression on his face.

"You were panicking."

"You slapped me," annoyed now.

"You were wasting time. We only have a minute and a half left to start the ritual." He explained logically and Neville's annoyance turned to pouting.

"You slapped me," he whined.

"Oh stop sulking," he rolled his eyes in exasperation, "We have a ritual to do."

He then proceeded to drag his moping friend over to the ritual and into position in the centre circle of runes. Said friend muttered the whole way about what sounded suspiciously like "ruffians with violent tendencies". Ignoring the maligning of his character, Harry went about placing the candles before taking his place in the circle also.

"It's time."

Neville, seeing the serious expression on his face, immediately focussed on the task at hand.

"You're sure I don't need to chant?" the question had been bothering him.

"Positive," Harry responded, "Luna's notes say that only one person needs to chant for everything in the circle to be transported. You'll be dragged along, sort of like a passenger."

Neville nodded and glanced around the room, another thought occurring to him.

"I thought we agreed it was too dangerous to leave any information behind about the ritual," he gestured towards the blackboards, "Shouldn't we erase those?"

"It doesn't really matter either way since the actual ritual will still be set up once we disappear," at Neville's anxious expression he continued, "Don't worry, I asked Beaumont to come in later this morning and clean everything up. You know how against this whole idea he was. He's not likely to leave behind any information for anyone else to do the same thing."

Neville nodded, satisfied with the idea.

Looking at the clock showed they had only seconds left till the moon reached its fullest. Harry took a deep breath, scanning the incantation on the blackboard one last time. At the second hand made the last jump, he began to chant.

As the chanting commenced, the candles lit up. Then magic began to build up in the room. It swirled around them like wind, but the candles' flames remained steady with nary a flicker. Faster and faster it span and Harry had to chant louder and louder to be heard over the storm. Neville chanced to look up and started at what he saw. At the top of the wind tunnel which the magic had formed, the ceiling could no longer be seen. Instead, blocking the view was a pulsing energy that seemed to be made of nothingness. Realising the direction of his friend's attention, Harry too looked up as he chanted, surprised to see the void above them.

They continued staring into the blackness as the ritual continued and watched as images eventually began appearing in what they now realised was the portal through which they would be travelling. The images passed by too fast for either to see them properly but both had the distinct feeling that they were different worlds. Finally, the chanting reached a crescendo and with an inaudible 'snap' the picture froze on an image. Both had but a moment to stare at the picture of an empty field before the wind became so strong their feet left the floor. Then, with a roaring 'whoosh' they were pushed up towards and then into the void, unconsciousness claiming them.

..ooOOoo..

**Reviews make me happy (hint, hint).**


	3. Chapter 2: Visiting with Goblins

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

_AN: Edited on 30th March 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Visiting with Goblins**

**Sun, 18/9/2005**

"…rry…ha…arry…ake…up…"

_Splash_!

"Ahhhh!"

With a scream and a muffled curse Harry eyes flew open and he jolted to full wakefulness. Seeing the attacker looming above him he acted on instincts finely honed through years of war.

"Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Incarcerous!"

In one second flat his opponent was unconscious, unarmed and restrained. Taking a moment to spell himself dry, he began examining his surroundings, determined to ensure that there were no other opponents nearby. Looking about he found himself in a familiar open field; the field from the portal. Although he could see no other enemies about he was worried to notice that Neville was also nowhere to be found.

Having sufficiently assessed the situation he clamped down on his worry over his friend's fate and focussed on solving the problem. His best bet was to question his prisoner. Wand extended defensively he nudged the man with his foot and rolled him over. Then he burst out laughing.

It was Neville.

After several moments he managed to regain enough control to speak again.

"Rennervate," he waved his wand over the man and he awoke.

"What- I- you-" his friend stuttered before glaring, "I can't believe you did that."

"Well, you did attack me."

"I dropped a bucket of water on you! That hardly qualifies as an 'attack'."

"_Cold_ water."

"Fine, a bucket of _cold_ water."

"Why did you do that anyway?"

"Well you weren't waking up."

"Did you try casting a 'Rennervate'?"

"Well, no. But it's not my fault," he said defensively, voice rising in pitch, "I woke up to find it was morning, so we'd both been unconscious for hours. Then you weren't waking. I panicked and you know how I get when I panic. I become impulsive," a sad look crossed his face and he added quietly, "Luna always used to say so."

"She did, didn't she," Harry agreed just as quietly before adopting a more cheery tone of voice, not wanting his friend to be sad "Well I'll forgive you this once, even though I'm not entirely convinced you didn't just do it for your own twisted amusement."

Neville gave him a knowing look that said he knew what he was up to but smiled thankfully all the same. As the moment passed he began wriggling uncomfortably. He looked down then back up pointedly, drawing Harry's attention to the fact that he was still bound.

"A little help?"

"Right, sorry. Evanesco."

With the incantation the ropes disappeared. Reaching a hand down Harry helped his brother to his feet and the two began looking about curiously.

"Any idea where we are Harry?"

"Evan."

"Sorry, Evan. I'll try not to forget again."

"No problem Leander…" Harry paused and screwed up his nose, "Do you know I never stopped to consider what a mouthful that would be."

"Could be worse."

"Still, I think I'll have to shorten it like I used to with Neville."

"You do know I never particularly liked being called Nev," it wasn't really a question.

"Sure you did _Lea_."

A sigh, "You're impossible."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," he grinned cheekily before remembering the original question, "As to where we are, I have no clue. At least we've not succumbed to the 0.017 percent," he added brightly.

"The what?"

"Remember the letter said there was a 0.017 percent chance of us ending up in a world our bodies couldn't survive."

"Oh," realisation dawned, "I remember. Well, that's something to be thankful for I suppose."

"Yep. Plus, we avoided the 0.031 and the 0.004 as well."

"Remind me again what those were."

"Erasing our souls from existence and destroying the fabric of time respectively."

"Ah. Well that's also rather nice," he smiled wryly.

Harry smiled back and they stayed that way for a moment, in companionable silence before Neville interrupted it.

"Moment over?"

"Oh yeah."

"Down to business then."

"Right. I think the first thing we need to do is go to Gringotts."

"Assuming there is a Gringotts here," the elder twin interjected.

"Yes, well. The letter said this world should be similar to ours with only minor differences. So, I'm going to go ahead and assume that Gringotts is still there."

"Makes sense."

"I rather thought so. So what say we Apparate to the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron and go from there?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"Alright, meet you there."

One pop echoed across the field followed shortly after by another as the two men disappeared.

..ooOOoo..

With two soft pops first one then the other Franklin brother Apparated into existence in a small dingy courtyard. Both were tense, automatically prepared in case they encountered trouble. Seeing the area was empty but for them they each relaxed, though only slightly. Raising his wand, the smaller of the two tapped out a sequence on the bricks before stepping back as they began rearranging themselves to form the archway into Diagon Alley.

Once the bricks had settled they both stepped hesitantly through the archway, staring about in wonder. It had been so long since the Alley was destroyed in their home dimension but here- here it was fully intact, looking just as they once remembered it.

It had been longer still since people had braved the Alley as incautiously as those they now witnessed. Years of war with Voldemort had lent the wizarding world of their home an atmosphere of fear and danger. Wizards and witches would do their business quickly, walking about with heads down and wands firmly grasped. Children were kept safely at home and no one ever talked to strangers.

But not so here; here it was like Harry's first time in Diagon Alley all over again. It was all hustle and bustle and yelling and laughter. Children ran about dodging between adults' feet and everyone greeted stranger and friend alike with openness. It was wonderful.

It wasn't until he heard Neville sniffle and turned to see the tears tracking down his cheeks that he realised that he too was crying. Hastily wiping them away he nudged his companion affectionately and gave a wavering smile.

"Best buck up and wipe away those tears before passers-by notice and start giving us odd looks," to which Neville made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

"Right, best not to draw attention and all that," he said, wiping his eyes and regaining control of himself.

"That and you look like a pansy."

That comment earned him a more genuine laugh and the two finally stepped forward out into the crowd. As they made their way through the throng, they let their guards down a little for once, enjoying the cheerful atmosphere and drinking in the sight of the Alley as it once was.

They passed the cauldron shop and apothecary, before getting momentarily sidetracked when they reached Quality Quidditch Supplies. Neville had walked a whole ten steps before realising Harry was no longer with him. He then had to retrace his footsteps and drag his drooling companion away from a window display of what appeared to be the sequel to the Firebolt.

After that they continued on past familiar stores. Eeylops Own Emporium was there, as was Flourish & Blotts and Madam Malkin's. Harry even recognised the once familiar face of Florean Fortescue serving a sundae at his ice-cream parlour.

Finally however they rounded the corner and spied the looming white columns of Gringotts up ahead and hurried their pace. They both nodded politely to the guard-Goblin as they passed the bronze doors who managed to sneer somewhat less in response. They then passed through the engraved silver doors and entered the dimly lit hall.

In their home world the Goblins had declared firm neutrality in the raging conflict. Voldemort's dissatisfaction with their response had required them to call upon a vast amount of Goblin-magics to ward their bank against the actions of those who would disregard their unwillingness to take sides. Said magics had ensured that Gringotts remained almost unaffected by the surrounding destruction, and so it was that this bank was for the most part the same as the one they had left behind. The main differences being that here there were more tellers, fewer guards and more customers.

The two brothers joined the rather short queue for new accounts, awaiting their turn. The sight of a familiar Goblin across the hall caught Harry's attention and he turned to his friend with a questioning look.

"So, I only know a little about how this works, but we'll need to have a manager or something right?"

"Definitely, given the size of our account. Most pure-bloods tend not to trust Goblins too much though so they usually oversee a lot of it themselves. But, unless they want to do so full-time, there's really too much work for them alone. Besides, it's a bit of a status symbol having a Gringotts account manger; a sign that you have enough gold for the Goblins to have a personal interest in you."

"Hmm," he nodded in understanding, still eying the Goblin across the hall thoughtfully.

"Why the question? And what are you staring at?"

"Well I wasn't sure if it was just a thing for the old pure-blood families."

"Having an account manager?"

"Yeah."

"Not, it's mostly to do with wealth. Gran used to drill this kind of stuff into me when I was younger for when we had meetings with our manager Krogen. She'd constantly be telling me that money doesn't manage itself. Back to my question though, that still doesn't explain what you're staring at."

"Well I remember when I first found out my account extended beyond my trust vault."

"And you found out that Dumbledore had had his fingers in your finances. My ears are still ringing after all these years just remembering your reaction."

"It was justified," he interrupted his staring to give the man beside him a righteous glare.

"No arguments here," he raised his hands defensively.

"Good. Anyway it turns out he was bribing my account manager."

"I do know all this already."

"Quiet, I'm getting to the point. So, he was bribing my account manager so I had to get help from another Goblin. The Goblin that was helping me was called Griphook. I think he was so helpful straight away because I recognised him as the one who took me to my vault the first time I came here."

"And you remembered him by sight? How? They all seem the same to me."

"Really? He seemed to respect the fact that I'd taken notice to actually recognise him, but I honestly couldn't understand why someone wouldn't."

"Trust me on this. Most wizards or witches wouldn't. At least not one they hadn't seen before quite a number of times."

"Another example of the wizarding world's prejudice," he frowned in disgust.

"I don't think that's it," at the sceptical eyebrow raised in his direction he amended, "Okay; maybe it is a big part of it. But I reckon I'm an open minded sort myself."

"We have counted two house elves as family in our time."

"Exactly. And despite that, I honestly still have trouble telling Goblins apart. It must just be one of those random skills you have. Like flying and duelling and Monopoly," he grinned at the snort that comment generated, "I do hate that game."

"Fred and George used to love it though."

"Pair of joke business entrepreneurs that they were, how could they not?" they shared a smile, "Back to the point though, you've still not answered my question."

"Question? Oh, what I was staring at? Well I ended up replacing Dumbledore's little Goblin puppet and making Griphook my manager, as I've no doubt told you-"

"You have," a pause, "Fine, fine, I'll stop interrupting."

"Thank you," he sniffed and they both took a step forward as the woman at the counter finished her business and the man in front of them stepped up to the teller, "What I was staring at was a Goblin across the hall. I thought he might be Griphook but I can't tell from this far away."

"So that's what got you thinking about account managers."

"Yeah. Plus I was thinking I might see if I can make him my account manager here as well."

"Really?"

"Well he was always very helpful, not to mention honest and to the point. At least the other version of him was – I'm assuming this Griphook would be similar. And, from the few times I met with him, and the account information he showed me, he had my fortune growing by leaps and bounds, even during the war. That's good right?"

"Yes Evan," he said condescendingly, obviously amused by his friend's ignorance of money management, "That's very good."

"I'm going to pretend you weren't just being patronising."

"Appreciated."

"I'm _so_ sure," he rolled his eyes, "What about you? Is there a particular Goblin you want to manage your gold?"

He thought on it for a moment, "Not that I can think of."

"What about your old one? Krogen you said?" to which Neville wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Nasty, crotchety old creature. Reminded me of that insane elf of yours."

"From the latter sentence I might have assumed you meant Dobby but given the former and the fact that we both actually loved him I'm guessing you mean Kreacher."

"Yeah, and he treated Gran like Kreacher treated Mrs Black's portrait. He was the picture of courtesy whenever she was around but when she wasn't he was horrible."

"Right, so not Krogen," a sly look crossed his face, "How about your _friend_ Grellnick?"

He gave a laugh as he dodged the shove aimed his way. Before they could carry on any further a pointedly cleared throat drew their attention to the fact that the man in front of them had obviously already finished and gone on his way. Composing themselves somewhat, they stepped up to the disapproving and impatient looking Goblin.

"State your business," he said in an imperious tone.

"We're here to open new accounts," Neville explained, only to get an annoyed sigh and eye roll in return.

"Well this _is_ the new accounts queue, so I would hope so," he said snarkily.

At Neville's embarrassed look, Harry stepped forward to take over.

"That Goblin over there," he pointed across the hall, "Is he called Griphook?"

The Goblin behind the teller gave him a strange look before turning to see the being in question, who had just returned from escorting a man to his vault.

"Yes, I believe so," he said finally.

"Great, I'd like him to be my account manager."

"Mine too," at Harry's questioning look Neville just shrugged, "Well you recommended him and I can't think of anyone else."

"His too then."

"And can I assume you are both wealthy enough to qualify for a manager?" he seemed to have a sour look on his face.

"Yes, definitely," he said confidently, thinking of his piles of gold and the Goblin's face twisted.

"_Fine_," he snarled, "Griphook!"

As they waited for Griphook to make his way to then Harry leaned over and whispered into his friend's ear.

"Did he just _snarl_ at me?"

"I believe so, but you can't really blame him."

"Why?"

"Well he probably hoped that we wouldn't know any Goblins personally and he could appoint himself our account managers. It's considered quite an honour."

"Oh, yes. Gri-" he glanced at the teller who was trying to overhear their conversation before whispering again, "The other Griphook told me that being appointed to the Potter fortune was considered a rather large promotion."

"It would be, the Potter fortune is one of the bigger ones."

They both silenced as Griphook reached the other Goblin who leaned down from his stool to speak to him. After a few moments his eyebrow rose and he looked towards the two humans. Having delivered his message the teller summarily dismissed all three of them with a haughty wave of his long-fingered hand and proceeded to ignore them.

Griphook approached the brothers looking each of them over. They smiled and nodded politely at him and he nodded indicating they follow him.

"This way sirs."

They were then led out of the hall and down a corridor from which they took a number of turns before being led into a nondescript office with a desk and comfortable chairs for guests. The brothers each took seats as Griphook went around behind the desk and clambered up onto the wingback chair settled behind it.

"Well," he said finally, hands clasped before him, "I believe you already know I am called Griphook."

"Yes," taking this for an introduction Harry responded in kind, "And my name is Evan Franklin. This is my brother," there was a moment of silence before he looked pointedly at his brother.

"Oh, Sorry. Leander Franklin, pleasure to meet you," Neville finally introduced himself, remembering his manners.

"Might I inquire as to why sirs requested me by name?"

"You probably wouldn't remember but we've met a few times and you seemed very competent and very honest," this was only a half-truth since it was a different Griphook he had met, but the green-eyed brother figured it was the best explanation he could give.

"I see," he sat up straighter, obviously satisfied with the matter-of-fact tone in which the compliments were delivered, "Now I understand you wish to create new accounts. You are aware the in order to qualify for a part time account manager your assets must tally at least five hundred thousand Galleons whereas for a full time account manager your worth must be one million Galleons, minimum?"

The Goblin looked toward Harry for confirmation, correctly assuming him to be the leader of the two. Harry however was well aware that Neville, having grown up as a wealthy pure-blood, was better suited to take control in certain situations. This was one of them.

"We both definitely qualify for the full time option," he said to the pleasure of their prospective account manager, "But other than that, so far as banking goes, you're better off asking Lea here," he indicated his brother who nodded in understanding.

Confident in this subject, Neville and Griphook soon got into a detailed and rousing debate about interest rates and vault keeping fees and a dozen other things that went completely over Harry's head. He sat back and half listened to the two, contemplating what they should do next.

Two things struck him as the most obvious. Firstly they would need somewhere to live. The second was that they would need to do some research into the history of this world to find out any obvious differences. One should always be as prepared as possible after all.

"Done!"

At Griphook's exclamation he focussed back on the two others to see them shaking hands, both obviously quite happy with the results of their conversation, whatever they may have been. Harry trusted that Neville was best equipped to deal with their finances so he didn't bother asking.

"So what now?" he asked his smiling brother.

"I assume we have to fill in some paperwork and then deposit our gold and such."

He looked to the Goblin at that who nodded and proceeded to tap a certain pattern on his desk. Then he pressed a small gold button in the very centre of the desk – which Harry had not noticed previously – and a 'ding' sounded as a draw shot open out the side of the desk. Neville stepped forward as though this were perfectly normal – which it most likely was – and withdrew a stack of parchment before closing the drawer.

"Okay, what's all that for?" he asked in confusion as his brother proceeded to separate the stack into two piles.

"This is the paperwork I was talking about."

"Indeed," Griphook interjected, "First I need some personal information for our records."

He then went on to ask the two of them a few basic questions such as their full names and date of birth. They had decided to keep their original birthdays – Neville on the 30th of July and Harry on the 31st – since it was still conceivable for twins to be born a day apart. Eventually Griphook had finished making the additions to the paperwork and pushed the piles back towards them.

"If you could look over the contracts and sign at the appropriate places."

"Here," Neville handed Harry one of the piles, "It's mostly the same as mine. I'll double check my copy; you just sign at the red marks on yours."

"Where do I get a-"

"Quills sirs," Griphook smoothly interrupted with a smirk.

Harry accepted the quills with a roll of his eyes placing his brother's down next to him. Neville had by this stage read through a quarter of his pile so he assumed it would be alright to start signing. As he found the first red mark he abruptly broke out in curses.

"What? What's wrong," Neville asked worriedly.

"I believe your brother was unaware blood quills are used for magically binding contracts," the perversely amused Goblin chuckled.

"No, I knew," he said defensively, avoiding eye contact with the other two, "I just- forgot. Caught me by surprise is all. This isn't funny," he told still amused Goblin.

"Actually," his brother disagreed, unapologetically, "It kinda is."

"Traitor," he pouted and proceeded to ignore them both in an obvious manner.

As the sound of his companions' amusement dimmed he continued signing at the red marks, eyes flicking briefly over the details as he did so. Upon reaching the halfway mark he looked over to make sure Neville had read over and approved up to that point, only to find that he had finished and was starting to add his own signatures. They worked together in silence for some minutes and finished signing the contracts at about the same time.

"Done," he sighed, placing his quill on the table.

"Me too."

As Griphook leaned forward to look over their paperwork Harry became aware of a dull throbbing of his hand. He looked down to see the copy of his signature carved into the back of it. Pulling out his wand he healed the cut and cleaned up the blood left over.

"Episkey, Tergeo."

"Good idea," said Neville, "Now where did I put my wand?"

As Neville began searching through his pockets Harry stared in amusement at the wand that had, at some time during his discussions with Griphook, been placed neatly on the desk before him. Under normal circumstances he would let him search for a little longer, but the previously mentioned Goblin seemed to be getting impatient. Knowing nothing good could come of such a thing he coughed loudly, drawing the searching wizard's attention.

"This what your looking for?" he smirked, picking up the wand.

"Thanks," Neville said, blushing in embarrassment as he accepted the wand, "Episkey, Tergeo."

"Well," Griphook interrupted brusquely, "All seems to be in order. I'll just file this paperwork."

With that he began tapping another pattern on his desk – different to the last time – before pressing the gold button once again. A 'ding' sounded and another draw shot open, this time from the opposite side of the desk. Griphook clambered down from his chair and deposited the two signed contracts in the draw, shutting it firmly. There was a brief pause before another 'ding' sounded out and both Neville and the Goblin nodded in satisfaction.

"All is in order. Your accounts have been approved and filed. Now, if sirs would follow me we shall take a trip to your vaults."

Griphook then lead the way from the office, leaving his two clients scurrying to catch up. As they came abreast of him he looked them both over carefully.

"You do have your gold with you?" he said in a tone that indicated it was to the benefit of their health that they did.

"O-of course," Neville squeaked nervously.

"Shrunken trunks," Harry clarified and Griphook nodded in satisfaction.

A few minutes later the three of them were ensconced in a cart, speeding through the labyrinth of tunnels beneath Gringotts. The trip seemed to take a lot longer than Harry recalled from whenever he came to withdraw money from his trust vault. There also seemed to pass a far greater number of dragons and other such beasts. It reminded him quite a bit of the few times he had travelled to the Potter family vault. Upon reflection that made sense since all the old pure-blood families were known to hold high security vaults and he recalled skimming briefly over the security details in the contract; Neville had chosen one of the higher security options for their fortunes.

Finally the cart slowed down before coming to a rough stop. Griphook climbed out of the cart, the other two following.

"Vault number forty-two, vault for Mr Franklin the younger," said the Goblin.

They stood in a small recess, before a huge door, easily the size of one of those guarding the entrance to Hogwarts. The entire area was cast in shadows and Harry briefly considered fetching the lamp before their Goblin manager made a movement. With a click of his gnarled fingers two torches lit at either side of the door.

The trip down, the torches, the large door – it was all reminding Harry a great deal of The Potter family vault, not to mention the Longbottom vault from the one time he accompanied Neville to it. He had previously thought only the pure-blood families had vaults like this and he voiced the opinions aloud.

"This vault previously belonged to the Donahue family till the mid nineteenth century," Griphook explained, "The patriarch of said family at the time had a habit of gambling. Needless to say it reached the stage where he could no longer afford the upkeep of such a prestigious vault."

"I see. How come the door doesn't have the Donahue crest on it?"

"The crest is added when a family sets up the vault. I assume it's just as easily removed if they lose the vault," Neville explained and Griphook nodded in agreement.

"Now, to activate the vault it needs to be bonded to its master by name, blood and magic," their account manager began explaining to Harry.

"This isn't going to hurt is it," he asked the Goblin warily, disturbed by the toothy grin he got in return.

"Even less than a blood quill Mr Franklin," he assured him and Harry got the distinct impression he was being teased, "Firstly you must make a cut across your palm. Then, place your hand on the door and state your full name and that you lay claim to this vault."

"Okay," he said and cast a light severing charm on his left hand, "Diffindo."

"We should step back so as not to confuse the magic part of the ritual," Griphook advised Neville.

"Magic part?" he asked overhearing.

"As I said, the vault needs to be bonded to you by name, blood and magic. You call out your name; you place your blood on the door; and as for your magic, the vault will read it."

"Well get on with it then, before you bleed to death," Neville joked.

Realising that he was in fact dripping blood on the floor from the cut in his hand, he quickly stepped forwards and placed the palm in the centre the metal door. With a deep breath he spoke in a clear and confident voice.

"I, Evan Foley Franklin, do lay claim to this vault."

He watched fascinated as the blood smeared across the door seemed to be absorbed. Then, he felt gentle probes of magic extend from the vault. Instinctively, he knew what to do. For a moment, he released a pulse of his magic, lighting up the small recess and the probes paused before withdrawing.

He removed his hand and turned around to look at the other two. Neville smiled at him and came forward, taking his newly made brother's hand and withdrawing his wand.

"Episkey, Tergeo."

"Thanks," he smiled back as his now clear hand was returned.

"Well, if you will now open your vault we can deposit your gold," Griphook said in a businesslike tone, "In order to open the doors simply state your name and that you wish access to your vault."

He nodded, although he already knew this from when he accessed his Family vault. Repeating the required phrase, the door swung open to show a large, empty cavern. He took a step in before recalling that no one else could enter his vault without his permission. Remembering also how to change that fact, he turned and reached his hand across the threshold to take his brother's own.

"I, Evan Foley Franklin, do give permission to Leander Philip Franklin, to enter my vault."

The wards at the door shimmered visibly for a moment before settling and Neville entered after him. Griphook stood by the door waiting for them. Knowing what he needed to do next, he removed from his pocket the shrunken trunk his brother had given to him before the trip.

"Engorgio," he tapped it with his wand and it expanded to full size.

The trunk had two metal plates on the front. Kneeling down he reached out his hand with thumb extended, towards the leftmost one.

"Coins are in the first compartment, right?"

"Yeah, other items are in the second," Neville nodded.

Nodding back, he pressed his thumb against the plate. There was a quick sting as his finger was pricked and then a pause as it sampled his blood. Then, with a warm red glow, he felt his finger heal as the trunk gave a click and unlocked itself, enabling him to open its lid. Looking down into obviously magically-enlarged interior he was presented with a huge, hall-sized room, drowned mostly in Galleons but with a few Sickles and Knuts interspersed.

"So, how about I go down and pass the gold up to you," he suggested much to his brother amusement.

"Are you a wizard or a Muggle?" Neville asked, "Why don't you just levitate it out?"

"Oh," he said sheepishly before an even better idea struck him, "Or, I could do this. Wingardium Leviosa."

With a flick and them a twist of his wand, the trunk rose up and then tipped, turning over. There was then a loud crashing sound as all of a sudden, gold began raining down into the vault. They each stared for a few minutes as the gold began piling up before Neville turned to look at him. He was obviously trying to keep a straight face but the twitch at the corner of his lip gave him away.

"That works too I guess," and they both broke out into laughter.

They stood there for some time as the piles of gold grew higher and higher. Eventually a choking sound caught their attention. Griphook was standing by the door, jaw hanging and eyes bulging. He looked utterly gobsmacked. Harry frowned in worry and leaned over to his brother.

"Is he alright, do you reckon?" he asked quietly.

"He's probably just surprised at the amount of gold," Neville explained.

"Didn't he already know?"

"No, he knew we had at least one million each – to qualify for a full time Gringotts account manager – but I never mentioned exactly how much we had. That gets officially tallied after we've deposited everything."

"Ah. Well this is considerably more than that."

"True; and Goblins do like their gold."

"Larger promotion than you were expecting?" he called out cheekily to the stunned creature.

"It- there- gold-" he managed to respond.

"I think that's a yes," Neville observed dryly.

Griphook finally managed to snap himself out of his stupor and turned his attention from the ever increasing mountains of gold to the two brothers.

"I had not realised just how large your fortune was, sir. Is the other Mr Franklin's anywhere near as large as this?"

"Lea's is slightly less than mine, but not by much."

"Wonderful," their account manager looked truly delighted at the prospect.

Eventually the rain of gold slowed to a trickle. The trunk had to be shaken about a little to dislodge the few remaining coins, but soon the trunk's compartment was empty. Once that was done he closed the lid and propped it up in a corner.

The second compartment contained various items and heirlooms. However, since it might raise questions if Griphook saw items with the Potter, Black – or in Neville's case Longbottom – crests on them, they had both decided to simply leave the trunks in their vault without unpacking that compartment.

"All done. Now we just need to step back so Griphook can create a ledger," Neville said, dragging his confused brother from the vault.

"I remember there being a ledger in our old family vaults," he whispered, "But what do you mean by make?"

"Goblin-magic. Just watch."

They both observed as Griphook stood at the threshold of the vault. He began mumbling what Harry was fairly sure was Gobbledegook under his breath and waving his bony hands about in intricate patterns before his body. As he continued to chant, his hands started glowing a yellow colour. The light made patterns in the air which floated into the vault. The lights settled just inside to the left of the door and although it took him a moment, Harry realised that it was forming the shape of a lectern, topped with a book. Finally the chanting reached a crescendo, Griphook dropped his hands, and with an inaudible '_snap_' a solid wooden lectern and bound parchment book appeared. Harry was suitably impressed.

"Wow."

"Yeah," Neville agreed, "I've only seen Goblin-magic a few times but it's always fairly spectacular."

"With the chanting and the waving patterns it seems more like music and dancing than spell casting."

"You will find," a voice below them surprised the two, "That many magical species do indeed use music and dance for their magic. There was a time when wizards did also."

"Really?" he was surprised and intrigued.

"Indeed."

Curious, he walked over to the ledger to read what it said. It listed number of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts – an impressive amount of the former and a good number of the latter two also – as well as a single other entry: '_Wizard's Trunk – two compartments – contents unknown_'.

Business now finished, Harry closed the door to his vault and they clambered back into the cart. Griphook seemed quite amused at their bafflement as the cart rolled but a few metres forward before stopping again.

"The unlucky Mr Donahue also happened to be heir to the Wilson fortune. Coincidentally, the Wilson family vault was number forty-three."

From there they all climbed out from the cart. The old Wilson vault was much the same as what was once the Donahue one, and Neville was soon repeating the process Harry had gone through for his own vault. A half hour or so later two brothers and one very happy Goblin shut the door on several piles of gold, and returned to the cart for the trip back to the surface.

..ooOOoo..

**Reviews make me happy (hint, hint).**


	4. Chapter 3: Homes and Histories

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

* * *

**Chapter 3 – Homes and Histories**

**Sun, 18/9/2005**

The Franklin brothers emerged from the bank, squinting a bit as their eyes adjusted to the sunshine. Pausing, they each took a moment to take in the atmosphere, still in awe of at the site of a peacetime Diagon Alley. Finally, Neville turned to his brother, wondering what their next step should be.

"Well, I was thinking we should find somewhere to live. Staying at the Leaky Cauldron's alright short term but I think we'll want more space eventually."

"I guess the best place to look would be Leonard & Riley's Land & Realty. Assuming that's the same here."

"Well everything else has seemed the same so far apart from the obvious lack of a war. I'm beginning to wonder what the differences actually are. Did this world's Tom Riddle just decide becoming a Dark Lord wasn't the career path for him?"

Neville snorted, "Don't know."

"Anyway, where is this realty place?"

"It's just a bit further down the Alley. Up ahead on the left; across from Gambol & Japes."

The real estate agency, it turned out, was exactly where Neville had predicted. They entered the store, Harry expecting to see a plain looking waiting room with placards advertising different properties for sale. He soon found however, that what he was expecting was the Muggle way such businesses were conducted. Evidently wizarding real estate agencies were another matter altogether.

It was a waiting room but it was the furthest thing from plain he could imagine, although Neville seemed to think it ordinary enough. Instead of placards there were rows upon rows of crystals. All were conically shaped, and most interestingly, above each floated a projected, rotating, three dimensional model of a home. There were a few other customers in the store and he watched in awe as an attendant explained some feature to a customer and touched his hand to the crystal. The roof disappeared off the house they were examining and the image zoomed in to show the details of the kitchen. Harry was suitably impressed.

"Even after all these years the wizarding world can still surprise me," he murmured.

"How so?" his brother asked, overhearing.

"These hologram things. I had no idea wizards had created this sort of thing."

"Really?" he seemed surprised, "They use it in architecture and construction as well."

"What are they called?"

"Viewing Crystals."

"Urgh, flashback to Professor Trelawney's classes."

A snicker, "Crystal balls? Completely different thing. You know I never really considered it but these things might have been useful back on raids and such."

"We could have mapped the houses before going in," Harry caught on right away, eyes widening, "Hell, Luna and the Twins could probably have worked out a way to make it work like a Marauder's Map. We'd have known exactly who was in there and where."

"Merlin, we could even have created a simple parchment version. Still would have been just as useful," Neville said, half speaking to himself as the realisation came to him.

"Why is it the great ideas always come to you in retrospect?" he pouted

"Hindsight _is_ twenty-twenty."

After Hogwarts they all had to lay low and had decided unanimously that the Muggle world was the best place to go. Then, further into the conflict with Voldemort, the Ministry had simply been unable to maintain secrecy from the Muggles. In the end the lines between the two worlds became so indistinct that in many ways it was as though they had both combined. So it was that over time their little self-made family of mostly pure-blood wizards, and house-elves formerly of pure-blood families, had caught onto quite a bit of the Muggle culture.

"You know, even after all this time I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing you spout Muggle phrases."

"The twins did love their TV."

"Not to mention Dobby," he understated.

"No," Neville agreed dryly, "No to mention Dobby. I can still remember Winky's reaction to that little addiction of his."

Harry winced, "Yeah, I loved them and all but the whole, 'if you keeps watching then no more sexy' thing? Way too much information."

They both shared a chuckle at that. It was one thing to know abstractly that the two had been a couple. They had all been very congratulatory about it in fact. However, there were certain things they just didn't need the intimate details about; house-elf sex being one such thing.

The shuffling of approaching footsteps and a cleared throat had them both on guard and turning their attention to the man behind them. The attendant was well groomed and well dressed, exactly as one would expect. He also had warm brown eyes and a friendly smile.

"Good morning good fellows," he said cheerily, "Can I help you in some way?"

"Good morning," Neville responded.

"I'm Evan Franklin."

"Leander Franklin."

"Pleasure to meet you both. Name's Derek Short. So are you two looking for a house or just land? Big or small? Expensive or cheap? Buy or rent? Give me some details and let me help you out."

The man's honestly exuberant demeanour eased their tension and they both gave warm smiles back. Harry decided to answer his questions in turn.

"House, small, any price, and rent," he looked to Neville for confirmation.

"Renting?" he asked, curious as to why.

"Yeah. We don't know what we want to do yet so I figure renting would be the best way to go. Less hassle if we decide we want to go somewhere else or we want something bigger," he explained and Neville nodded in agreement.

"Alright then, let's go look at," a pause, then dramatically, "_The_ Book."

Raised eyebrow and a pause, "_The_ Book?"

"Yes, just follow me."

Short then led them toward the back of the room where a previously unnoticed customer counter was sequestered. Their guide ducked behind the counter and returned with a quill and a large book, bound in red leather. He opened the book to the first page and put quill to paper.

"This is _The_ Book. It's a record of all available properties. Now let's see. House, renting."

As he spoke, Short made notations on the page. Looking over his shoulder, Harry observed a page with a list of questions regarding a prospective property.

"Let's see if we can't get a bit more specific, hmm?" the man asked them, "You said small but that's a bit vague. How about number of bedrooms?"

"At least two – no more than three," Neville supplied and his brother hummed in agreement.

"Price range; you said any but did you have a limit at all?"

"No," Harry said, "Probably nothing ridiculously overpriced, but other than that we don't really have a spending limit."

"Okay, I'll just mark that down," the quill scratched across the page.

He then went on to ask them a number of questions such as number of floors, number of bathrooms, with or without a garden and so on.

"Alright, any particular location?"

"Umm, I don't know," Harry said, drawing a blank.

"How about Belle Blanchard?" Neville suggested.

"Belle Blanchard?" Harry asked, looking stumped.

"Well, then we'd be near to everything while we figure out what to do. More convenient."

"No, I didn't mean why, I meant what?"

"What?"

"And where. As in what is it and where is it?"

"You've not heard of Belle Blanchard Lane?" Short asked, eyebrows rising in surprise.

"We're Muggle raised," Neville covered smoothly, "Didn't even go to Hogwarts. Evan's got a lot more gaps in his general knowledge than me though; he's a bit odd is his reading tastes – very random," he said truthfully.

"It's not odd," Harry played along, "I just want to get to the stuff that looks interesting that's all."

"Didn't go to Hogwarts? Such a pity, it's a wonderful place."

"Well, our guardian at the time didn't think it right to interrupt our 'proper' Muggle education to learn magic tricks," Harry continued with the cover story the two had devised some months ago.

"That's really too bad," he looked sympathetic.

"Oh, don't worry too much. We still got magical tutors and everything," Neville assured him cheerfully.

"Well, that's good leastways. Now we've gotten off track. Care to explain Belle Blanchard to your brother there?"

"Oh, completely forgot," he turned to Harry, "You know the square down the end of the street?"

"Only vaguely. I know it's there but I've never actually gone that far down the Alley, or even anywhere past Ollivander's for that matter. Not had the need."

"Well, that's Wizard's Square. Belle Blanchard Lane and a couple of others lead off from it. Belle Blanchard is just like a normal neighbourhood street with homes along it."

"Huh, and to think I thought there was only Diagon and Knockturn."

Short chuckled at his cluelessness,

"Well, how's it sound as a location to you?" the attendant asked him.

"Yeah, I agree with Lea; sounds like a good spot."

"Alright, just mark that down. Now," he withdrew his wand and tapped it to the page, "For the password. 'Search me a house.' And we give it a moment."

Harry tried not to shiver as the words were absorbed into the page and after a moment the words 'Search Complete' seemed to write themselves across it. It reminded him eerily of Tom Riddle's diary. Short naturally had no idea of the direction of his thoughts and happily began flipping the pages, browsing the pictures and descriptions of a number of houses.

"Hmm, let's see here. Well there are only three properties suiting all your needs. And their Viewing Crystals are located… hmm, yes, yes and yes. Right-o, let's go take a look at them shall we?" he said with an eager smile, leading the two of them to the first property.

"Now this is the first one," he said as they stopped before a Viewing Crystal at eye level, "It's somewhat in disrepair actually. A few holes in the roof, but that'll only be a problem if it rains. Also there's a hole in the floor of the living room, but it makes a fabulous shortcut to the basement."

The twins boys listened to the man's misplaced enthusiasm with disbelief as his hand on the Crystal guided the image to several other defects. This was not the house for them.

"So? What do you think?" he asked eagerly but Harry thought he detected a hint of amusement in those brown depths.

"Er- it's not quite what we're looking for," he said diplomatically and found his suspicions proved correct and the man burst into hearty laughter.

"No I thought not. This way then," he led them to another Crystal on a lower shelf behind them, "Now this one's in quite good repair. No unexpected weather or unusual shortcuts here."

They both grinned back at him and he continued on showing the house to them. It was a nice enough place but it just seemed a little too – girly. When Neville mentioned this fact he explained it had previously housed a little old lady with a fondness for flowers, knitting and lace.

"I think this is a maybe," Neville said.

"Well you don't sound terribly enthused so let's hope you take a liking to the last house. I think you'll be pleased with it."

The last viewing Crystal he showed them was at the other side of the store, on a shelf at hip level. As Short squatted down before it, the other two looked over his shoulders at the house it showed.

Unlike the first house, this one looked sturdy and well built. Unlike the second house, it had a strong masculine feel to it while still managing to seem cosy. Hardwood floor and dark coloured paints in most of the rooms were softened by the basic white of the kitchen, the picture windows and the small flower garden out front. It was a small house, but with two floors. It had three bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen, laundry, dining area, living room and a very modest library room. It also featured – much to Neville's delight – a greenhouse out the back. Granted it was an incredibly small greenhouse, but still – it was big enough to keep him entertained.

"Well, what do you think?" Short asked with a knowing look.

"I think you already know what we think," Harry said, sharing a smile with his brother.

"Humour me and pretend I don't. I promise to act terribly surprised," he said cheekily and the boys laughed.

"It's perfect," Neville told him.

"No?" Short gasped dramatically, "I never would have guessed. Surprised enough for you? Good, I thought so too. Well come on gentlemen. Follow me to my office and we can get all the paperwork sorted out. If all goes well I think we can have you both moving in today."

..ooOOoo..

It was mid afternoon as the two brothers walked down the street, having settled matters at Leonard & Riley's. Heading past Ollivander's they found themselves in the local square. Harry, who had never been this far down Diagon Alley, looked about taking in the sights.

Wizard's Square was large and open, bathed in sunlight. A cobblestone street travelled around the edges, framing a large grassy field in the centre of which was a tall, tiered fountain. The area seemed a popular spot for families and couples, as blankets with picnic lunches were scattered about. Children could be seen shrieking happily, racing across the lawn and playing games. The occasional child even seemed determined to go for a swim in the fountain, much to their parents' dismay.

There were a few buildings about the edges of the area but for the most part there were trees and gardens. As they meandered around the Square Harry observed that there were a number of other streets leading off from it.

Finally, almost opposite from Diagon Alley, Neville led him down a narrow street paved in rounded, chalk white cobblestones. He assumed that this was Belle Blanchard Lane and the street sign he then noticed off to the left confirmed his guess.

As they wandered further down Belle Blanchard, he admired the different houses and friendly atmosphere. Neighbours chatted over their fences as they tended their gardens and now and then a stranger would wave them hello. It was nothing at all like the stifling, cookie cutter properness he remembered of Privet Drive.

"What number was it again?" Neville's voice snapped him out of his musings.

"Erm," he frowned, recalling what Mr Short said, "Fifty-five."

They drifted to the left side of the street since that was where the odd numbered houses stood. Harry led the way as Neville followed behind, letting his fingers drag along the fences, tapping on the letterboxes as he passed them by.

"Fifteen, seventeen, nineteen…" the elder twin was so lost in his counting he didn't notice when the other stopped, "…fifty-one, fifty-three, fifty- oof!"

Harry quickly regained his balance and looked down at his brother, sprawled inelegantly in the gutter.

"Graceful as always, brother dearest," he observed sarcastically, earning a scowl in return.

"What were you doing?" he rose easily back to his feet, "Honestly, just stopping in the middle of-"

His scolding halted as he looked in the direction of Harry's outstretched hand.

"You were saying?" he smirked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Never mind," he mumbled, a longsuffering look pasted across his face.

The house before them was more than a little familiar. It was a larger version the last house they'd browsed in the Viewing Crystals. An exact replica; right down to the stepping stone path, and the navy blue paint on the front door to which it led.

Without thought, the two had withdrawn their wands and, working in tandem, began checking the property for hexes and enchantments, before laying various wards and enchantments of their own. Harry had just cast a standard Muggle-Repelling Charm and Neville a modified Notice-Me-Not targeted to those with ill intent when they both paused, realising what they were doing. They stared at one another in surprised silence for a moment before speaking.

"We don't have to do this here," Harry said, half to himself, "There's no war and we're not hiding out."

"You're right; this isn't going to be a base of operations or some safe house. It's just-"

"A home."

They both stood there pondering that thought for some time. Then, Neville's face took on a thoughtful look which soon turned determined. Noticing, Harry questioned him on it.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that just because there's no war going on here, doesn't mean we shouldn't take precautions. You never know when things might change."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise, "That's a surprisingly pessimistic view coming from you Lea. That's usually my forte."

"Actually, I think of it more as being practical."

"Ah, that makes more sense."

"Yes, I always was the most practical of all of us," he sniffed haughtily.

The effect was ruined somewhat though when his brother merely snorted and opened up the gate, messing his hair up on the way through. Neville pouted, straightening the rogue locks as he followed after.

"Its times like these I miss the twins. Normally it'd be them keeping _you_ humble."

A wistful look appeared in green eyes, "Strange to say it but yeah, me too."

The two walked down the path, finishing casting the usual spells as they reached the door.

"Evan, you have the key right?" Neville asked suddenly, subtly searching his own pockets.

A snort, "Of course. We both know what you're like. I made sure Mr Short gave it to me."

"I would be offended, but any argument I could possibly come up with wouldn't have a leg to stand on."

"It really wouldn't," agreed Harry, who was now unlocking the door.

The door opened and they ambled inside, closing it behind them and then set about exploring. The house was just as they expected. Strong, dark colours abounded but so too did windows, admitting plenty of light. From the entry were three doors, the one opposite the front door leading to a coat closet.

The one to the left led to the small library. Shelves – currently empty – lined the room, reaching towards the ceiling. In the centre sat a desk and chair, but as the room was dark and windowless, Harry figured he would take most of his reading to the living area or dining table.

The aforementioned dining and living areas were accessed through the right side door from the entryway and the combined room ran the length of the house.

Also on the first floor, at the back of the house was the kitchen and laundry, the latter of which had a door leading to the outside where there was to be found the small greenhouse.

The second floor was similar to the first with the same dark colours and numerous windows. On the left side of the storey at the front of the house was the bathroom and toilet and behind it was the largest of the bedrooms though it was oddly unfurnished. To the right of the upper floor were the other two, medium sized bedrooms, these ones furnished. Of these Harry decided that he would take the one at the front of the house, overlooking the street. That way, Neville could have the one at the back, overlooking his greenhouse. As for the unfurnished room, he was sure they would find a use for it sooner or later.

Curiosity sated and exploring finished, he padded down the stairs, jumping down from the second to last. Looking around, he wondered where his brother had gotten off to. As he searched about he was beginning to worry when a sound from the backyard caught his attention.

"Of course," he shook his head but smiled with fond exasperation, "This _is_ Neville we're talking about. Where else would he be?"

He headed though the laundry and out the back door before making his way to the greenhouse. Slipping inside quietly he leant against the wall, arms folded comfortably over his chest as he waited to be noticed.

"Hmm, could use some dragon dung fertiliser on the south beds… centre ones are alright but I think I'll replant some…" the young man muttered his thoughts aloud as he pottered around the nursery, stopping every now and then to feel the soil, "…northern beds are beyond hope… I'll have to- Oh! Evan!"

He jumped, finally having noticed his audience. Harry watched as his newly made brother caught his breath before smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry, got caught up in it all."

"Don't apologise. You're you. It's to be expected that a greenhouse would call to you sooner or later."

"Sooner it would seem," they shared a smile, "I never realised how much I missed it. I had my own greenhouses at Longbottom Manor you know? And then at school Professor Sprout would let me use hers whenever I wanted to, even outside of class. Then the war really started getting bad and we all left Hogwarts. The few times I managed to do any planting…"

"Someone would catch up to us again."

"Yeah, and I'd have to leave everything behind."

"Well no worries about that any more then," he grinned cheerily, determined to break up the melancholy atmosphere, "If you so please you can work in here from sunrise to sunset."

"Sunrise to sunset hey?" he teased but Harry could see the eager light in his eyes.

He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Longer, even."

That earned him a grin.

..ooOOoo..

**Wed, 21/9/2005**

It was several days later and the Franklin brothers were sitting down to dinner. There was one good thing, in Harry's mind, that had come from his living with the Dursleys. Their insistence on treating him as an overworked, underappreciated house-elf had the unexpected benefit of – among other home skills – making him a fantastic cook. Fortunately it was not a skill he was bitter about and in fact he quite enjoyed losing himself in the making of a meal.

When his skills had come to light some years ago, he had been wrangled into replacing Dobby working in the kitchen with Winky. Dobby had at first broken into noisy sobbing over that fact. Free he may be, but he still had plenty of traditional house-elf pride. It had taken them all some convincing to make him understand that he was a very good all round house-elf, but he was especially suited to areas such as cleaning. Winky on the other hand, was particularly suited to cooking. And as for Harry, cooking was a talent of his and one he enjoyed, and Dobby wouldn't want to take that away from him would he?

This was of course all entirely true but it was mostly the latter argument that clinched it for the overenthusiastic elf. If it made 'the great Harry Potter' happy then it must be so.

And thus were the two sat at their dining table one evening, happily enjoying a delicious meal – courtesy of Harry – and chatting between bites.

"You know, we've been lazing around for a couple of days now," Neville said, drowning a crusty piece of homemade bread into his soup.

"Well maybe I have but you've been more than a little busy, what with the greenhouse. I know I'm not an expert on Herbology but even I know that it's looking brilliant," he said and his brother blushed at the compliment.

"Well, maybe. Still you've been busy too, what with getting all those books from our vaults and setting up the library."

"True. I wasn't sure whether or not to get out the darker texts and some of the rarer ones. I'd like to have them all on hand but I don't want to risk them being seen or someone stealing them."

"You could always ward the library."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I know I was never able to find information on it back in our original dimension, but I might have more chance here. Channels are more organised and all without the war muddying them up."

"Find what?"

"The Fidelius Charm."

"The Secret Keeper Charm?"

"Yeah. I looked some during the war but with everything the way it was I didn't have much luck. I had been thinking we could use it to hide headquarters like the Order used to."

"Then we wouldn't have had to keep moving around whenever we were discovered," his blue eyes widened at the thought.

"Exactly. Unfortunately the only wizard who I knew for sure had the information wasn't exactly someone I was willing to go to for a chat."

"Dumbledore," he said simply and Harry nodded.

The two were silent for a moment but for the dinging of spoons on bowls as they considered what it would have been like if they'd had a fully secure base for the Resistance.

"Well, no point dwelling. It simply wasn't to be," Neville said pragmatically.

"Suppose."

"Well, you can look into it all you want now," green eyes brightened at the thought, "Besides; you've completely sidetracked me from my point."

"What point?"

"See, I'm so sidetracked you didn't even know there was a point," he said with an overdone tragic expression, only to have a piece of bread thrown at him.

"Save the dramatics. They're really not your thing."

"And they're yours?"

"Someone had to carry on Fred and George's most noble work," Harry said soberly.

"Too true," Neville returned in and equally serious manner before both broke down in laughter, "Anyway, you've distracted me again."

"Sorry," he said, not looking it at all, "Do continue."

"Well, I originally mentioned that we've both been lazing around."

"Which it has been established is entirely untrue," the younger brother interrupted, much to the elder's annoyance, "Hey, you threw bread at me!"

"Just returning it, now shh. Much better. So, my point was going to be that we've had enough time to get settled. We should really start looking into the history of this world."

Harry, who had been pouting over having bread thrown his way, straightened up and dropped the pout. He nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, you're right. It's been great being able to do what we want for a change, but we really do need to start that research."

"So, tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

..ooOOoo..

**Thu, 22/9/2005**

"Come on Lea!" Harry yelled up the stairs from the living room couch where he was sprawled, waiting.

"Coming!" pounding footsteps on the stairs followed by a thump announced his arrival, "Damn it. I swear those stairs intentionally trip me up. Hey, don't laugh. I could break my neck one of these days."

Harry just shook his head with an amused smile and moved to help his friend up from where he had landed at the base of the stairs. Together they headed to the front door. As he grabbed his cloak from the cloak stand he realised Neville's wasn't there.

"Got your cloak Lea?"

"Darn. Hold on," he raced towards the stairs.

"Washing yesterday, it'll be folded in the laundry."

Footsteps abruptly changed paths and instead headed toward the laundry. Ten minutes and a few more delays later, they were finally organised and heading out their front door. Giving a cheery wave to a neighbour watering his flowers they closed their gate behind them and headed toward Wizard's Square. When they finally reached it, Harry went to head left to Diagon Alley only to be brought up short.

"What?" he looked curiously at the hand holding his robe.

"What? More like 'where'. As in, where are you going?"

"Diagon Alley. Flourish & Blotts. Books for research. Any of this ringing any bells?" he stated, obviously confused.

"You want to actually buy all the books then?"

"Well, what else am I suppose to do?"

Neville stared hard at him for a moment as though trying to decide whether he was being genuine. Realising he was he gave an amused snort and shook his head.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Sorry, it's just- even after all this time it takes me by surprise when there's some obvious thing about the wizarding world you don't know."

"Not my fault," he exclaimed heatedly, "You can blame Dumbledore for leaving me with the bloody Muggles in the first place."

"I know, I know," he placated, "And you really shouldn't say things like that so loud in public. We're supposed to be keeping up identities remember."

"Sorry," he looked down, an embarrassed expression on his face, "I tend to lose my calm when it comes to him."

"Yeah I know and it's understandable. Don't worry about it. We both know I'm usually the one to slip up with this sort of thing."

"So, what were you going to say about the books?"

"Oh, right. There's no need to go to Flourish & Blotts because we can just go to the library."

"They let people do that? Besides, I'm not sure I want to be that close to a certain old man."

"No, not Hogwarts' library. You honestly thought that was the only wizarding library there was?"

He blinked. He had indeed thought just that. Now that he thought about it though, it really didn't make much sense. Neville finally released his robe and they started walking again in the opposite direction as he answered the question.

"I'm guessing then that it's not."

"Nope. See the tall blue building over there? The one with the two raven statues guarding the front," he pointed of to the right a ways.

"Yeah."

"That's Rowena's Library."

"As in Ravenclaw?"

"Exactly. It wasn't set up by her or anything though. More like, in her honour."

"Hence the blue and the ravens I take it?"

"And the bronze detailing you'll see all over the place when we get there."

The two soon found themselves inside and Harry looked around, taking in the décor. The library had a look about it that hinted it was intended to look quite grand. However, everywhere you looked was various shades of blue – even going so far as to stain the wooden shelves a dark navy – and overdone bronze detailing which made it all seem a little tacky in Harry's personal opinion. Still, the size of the library itself and the selection of books _were_ rather impressive even if not quite Hogwarts' standards. And that was the most important thing.

The two of them quickly got down to business. Harry went about fetching a number of books on recent history and Neville retrieved a stack of newspapers from the Daily Prophet archives. Since the most obvious difference in this world was that it wasn't losing a war against Voldemort they decided to research that first, in particular his activities during their Hogwarts years.

Initial findings showed that the Dark Lord had never been resurrected. Despite vague mentions of the Boy Who Lived being chosen, The Triwizard Tournament in this world had gone off with only the three school champions – Victor Krum, Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory. Also, the competition had finished with Cedric taking the cup and being Portkeyed, not to a graveyard, but out of the maze to the cheering of fans as the event organisers had intended. They both wondered why the Voldemort of this place had not used the tournament as he had in their world, to trap Harry Potter.

Not being able to find any other recent activity by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named they decided to look further into the events of his first rise. This, thankfully – or perhaps not – seemed to follow events of their world. They were working through the years up to his defeat and taking note of common events when Neville suddenly started making choking noises. Looking up Harry observed that he had gone quite pale and placed a worried hand on his shoulder.

"Lea, what's wrong?"

Rather than answer he shoved the Prophet that he had been reading towards him and sat back, hands covering his mouth and obviously in shock. Harry, beyond curious, looked down to see what was going on. The paper was a special edition, dated November 1, 1981; the day after Halloween. His growing feeling of unease was quickly explained as he read the front page headlines.

'_You-Know-Who Defeated!_'

'_Neville Longbottom Boy-Who-Lived_'

He reread it a few times, gaping at the bold font. He looked up to his brother to find him, if not collected, then at least a little less pale.

"Does this say what I think it says or do I desperately need a new pair of glasses?"

"You don't wear glasses anymore," Neville said dimly and his brother gave an exasperated sigh.

"Really not the point of that question."

"Oh, right. I-it, ah. Well if you're seeing- that is to say," he growled suddenly, annoyed at his own stuttering, "It says that in this dimension, I defeated Voldemort."

Harry nodded dumbly, "Yeah, that's what I thought," he said weakly, dropping the newspaper to the desk.

"Well," said Neville after a moment, "This is… unexpected."

That broke the tension and both laughed aloud, quieting to an occasional chuckle at the nasty looks of other readers nearby.

"So we've found the obvious difference," Neville began, "The question is: what does it mean?"

"The first question that comes to my mind is how this affected the Triwizard Tournament. Why he didn't use it to lure – well, Neville?"

"That I think I know the answer to."

"Do tell."

"This Neville's parents died that night so he went to live with his Gran, same as me."

"He did?"

"Yes, didn't you read the articles?"

"Sorry," he drawled sarcastically, "My attention was just a little caught by the headlines."

"Yes, yes. So anyways, this Neville-"

"Who shall from this moment forth be referred to simply as 'Neville', for simplicities sake," a glare, "Sorry, continue."

"Neville was raised as a pure-blood wizard with all that that entails."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that unlike you, he would have known that to be magically binding a contract must be entered into willingly."

Harry frowned, "Yes, the Goblet of Fire. Wish I could say I was disappointed in Dumbledore for failing to mention that, but it was really just another drop in an already large ocean wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Didn't help your reputation none at the time that you chose to compete though. It either meant you really did enter your name and were compelled to, or you were doing it for the attention, or you were just brave to the point of stupid."

"And neither Granger nor Weasley ever mentioned anything," he groused.

"Dumbledore probably told them to keep quiet," Neville agreed.

Harry sat there fuming for a time before huffing and sagging in his seat dejectedly.

"There's no point in my getting worked up about this. It's over and done with."

"And on the bright side, you'll never see any of them ever again," Harry perked up happily until he continued, "Unless you run into their alternate selves."

"Gee thanks."

"No problem," he grinned cheerily before sobering and hesitantly adding, "And I am sorry you know. F-for not telling you either. It's just t-that I- well I figured-"

"That Ron or Hermione would have told me. Don't worry about it Lea; there's nothing to forgive. We weren't as close back then and you had no reason to suspect they'd keep that from me."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now, what say we keep reading? We know what happened to this world's Neville and family. Let's find out what happened to Harry and his."

After a little more research they had their answers. In this world it seemed, the two friends' lives were somewhat mirrored. Whilst this Neville lost his parents and defeated Voldemort, this Harry's parents were tortured into insanity by death eaters. There was one consolation however.

"At least they figured out Pettigrew was a traitor," he almost whispered, "At least he got to grow up with Sirius."

"Yeah," Neville said just as quietly, an arm wrapped consolingly around his brother's shoulder, "There's that at least."

..ooOOoo..

**Reviews make me happy (hint, hint).**


	5. Chapter 4: Fun Fairs and Familiar Faces

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Fun Fairs and Familiar Faces**

**Sun, 25/9/2005**

It had been just a week to the day since Harry and Neville – better known as Evan and Leander to their neighbours – had arrived in their new world. Unsurprisingly, Neville had been spending the majority of his time in the nursery. Harry on the other hand – having done all he could with the library at present – had taken to spending his time first in the stacks of Flourish & Blotts and – when that turned up no results – in Rowena's Library. He was still looking for information on the Fidelius Charm.

"Leander!" he called from the back door, "I'm going out."

He was about to close the door and head off when a shout from inside the greenhouse made him come to a halt. He looked back to see Neville stumble out of the nursery, tripping over the step at the entrance.

"One of these days," he muttered, "It's a phase I say, a phase."

"Sure, sure," Harry rolled his eyes, his scepticism obvious, "Now, what did you want? I was just heading out."

"Oh right," he brightened, dusting off his hands, "Give me ten minutes to grab a shower and I'll come with. It _is_ the last Sunday of the month after all. It'll be good to see it again."

Before Harry had a chance to question exactly what _it_ was, Neville was halfway up the stairs. Shrugging and dismissing it he dropped down onto the couch, tapping a random rhythm on the armrest as he looked about aimlessly for something to do and wishing he had something to read. Looking towards the entryway he pursed his lips. The library was just a few steps away but he was really wanted something a bit lighter, like a newspaper. Suddenly realising that they'd not been having one delivered since they arrived, he quickly resolved to stop by the Owl Office that day to get a subscription to the Daily Prophet. Besides, it was good to keep up on current events.

At the pounding of steps on the stairs he called out a pre-emptive warning.

"Watch out for that last-" _thump_, he sighed, his warning having come too late, "Step."

Five minutes later two brothers – one quietly amused and one not so quietly annoyed – headed off down Belle Blanchard Lane. As they were approaching Wizard's Square Harry suddenly cocked his head to the side, listening intently to the sounds carried his way by the wind. As they got closer and closer to the Square the sounds grew louder. He also noted Neville's expression growing progressively lighter. Soon they were near enough to identify the sounds; laughter, talking, yelling and music. Before he had a chance to question his brother, he was dragged into a jog around the corner and into the Square – where he stopped dead in his tracks.

"What on earth is all this?"

Blue eyes which had been flitting about distractedly suddenly focused on him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, since when is Wizard's Square the site of a carnival?"

And a carnival it was. There was music and dancing and stalls of all sorts. Rides and games, from hoopla to kissing booths to the wizarding version of the Ferris wheel. There was even a miniature version of the Hogwarts Express carrying younger children around the park as they sat strapped to the small carriage roofs. And the foods! There were people with toffee apples and hotdogs and with candy floss messed on their faces, and people drinking bottles of butterbeers and other sweetened beverages. And then – over the whole lot of that – there was an atmosphere about the place which spoke of laughter and fun and relaxation.

"You didn't know about Wizard's Fair?" Neville's surprised tone dragged his attention back towards him, "What am I talking about? Of course you wouldn't. You only ever went to Diagon Alley for school supplies a few times before it was destroyed."

"I did stay at the Leaky Cauldron for three weeks or so before third year."

"After you blew up your Aunt Marge, right?"

"Yeah," he looked off into the distance dreamily, "Good memory."

"I'm sure," Neville laughed, "You weren't at the Cauldron on the last Sunday of a month?"

"Possibly, but I spent most of my time down at Fortescue's finishing essays and such. I probably never came close enough to notice that day."

"Well, they hold the Wizard's Fair every-"

"Let me guess: every last Sunday of the month?"

"Yeah," Neville began leading Harry through the crowds, "It's been going for who knows how long. Gran mentioned once she used to come occasionally when she was little girl."

"A very long time then," Harry observed as they dodged first a bright red ball bouncing their way, and then a child racing after it.

"Exactly. Anyway it's always great fun. Especially at Christmas."

_Woot_, w_ooo_! They and those around them all paused as the miniature Hogwarts Express – loaded with toddlers – chugged across their path before hurrying onwards once again.

"What's so special about the Christmas Fair?"

"Oh, it's brilliant. They have Christmas trees and fairies. And for the younger kids they give out gifts. I used to love it as a child."

"You know, I've never actually been to a fair before."

Neville stopped in surprise only to be bowled over by an elderly gentleman. Luckily good cheer seemed to abound as he only laughed good-naturedly before clambering back to his feet and going on his way. Neville on the other hand brushed himself off before turning to look at his brother.

"You've never been to a fair?" his mouth gaped open.

"Nope," Harry shook his head

"Been on a Ferris wheel?"

"Afraid not."

"Ring toss?"

"Not that I recall."

"Tell me you've at least had candy floss before?" his jaw which had previously dropped progressively lower with each answer now snapped shut and his face had a pleading expression.

"Never."

"Well," blue eyes changed from pleading to resolute, "We're just going to have to do something about that."

With that Neville grabbed his hand and marched determinedly towards the nearest ride. Harry, knowing better than to try to disagree with his Neville when he was so set on something, was left with no choice but to follow along. And in the end he was so very glad he did.

Some hours later the two were meandering around the stalls, each carrying a bag filled with various sweets and carnival fare and a number of prizes from the games they had played. Harry was pouting as Neville teased about his turn at 'High Strikers'.

"Ten times! Ten times you tried it before I had to drag you away."

"It was rigged I say, rigged," he claimed, not very convincingly.

He snorted in disbelief, "Rigged my arse. I used the exact same one right before you did and I hit that bell three times."

"Well it must have broken after you had your turn. Or-" he searched for an excuse, "Or maybe it was the mallet. I used a different one than you did."

"The girl after you used the same mallet and still managed to ring the bell Evan," Neville pointed out with a smirk.

"Hey, she was freakishly well muscled for a ten year old," he whined indignantly.

Neville just cracked up laughing leaving Harry to huff in annoyance and storm off. Still laughing, he hurried after. He caught sight of his brother just as he stopped all of a sudden. Walking towards him he was about to ask what was wrong when he followed the green eyed gaze and stopped suddenly beside him also. Harry, felt his brother come to stand next to him but didn't, or perhaps couldn't, turn to look.

"You know, we're making rather a habit of this 'stopping suddenly for various reasons' thing," he said, observing detachedly how distant and emotionless his voice had sounded.

"Yeah. We're p-probably stopping t-t-traffic flow," said Neville whose voice was, conversely, shaking with emotion.

Finally, realising it wouldn't be an idea to be caught staring by the objects of their combined fascination – especially without time to compose themselves – Harry snapped out of his trance and dragged himself and his brother into an nearby alleyway made from the space between two stalls. They both stood their staring at one another before Neville finally managed to speak, if somewhat shakily.

"Well, we both knew there was a chance of it."

"I know."

"I guess I just wasn't expecting it so soon."

"Or so suddenly."

Neville nodded in agreement, "So, what do we want to do?"

"Do?"

"Yeah. Do we ignore them or do we go and introduce ourselves?"

"And say what?"

"I don't know," he shrugged looking off to the side.

There was a moment of silence between them before Harry whispered.

"They're alive… and yet, they're dead."

He paused and then snickered in laughter. Neville, surprised at this reaction gazed at him worriedly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah it's just," he shook his head, "This is so screwed up."

At that Neville gave a small smile also.

"It really is. So, what should we do?"

"Hey, why do I have to decide?"

"Because, you are the fearless leader."

"No I'm not," he objected.

"Oh please. You were the head of the Resistance."

"I wasn't the head of the Resistance. The Resistance had no leader; that was the whole point," at the look he was receiving he shifted uncomfortably, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're completely oblivious at times, you know that right?" his voice was incredulous.

"I'm going to hold off on my offence for a minute while you explain the whole 'head' thing."

"You _were_ the head of the Resistance. Not officially or anything but everyone did follow you."

"But," he frowned, "That's not what I wanted. We established it because no one wanted to follow some dictator."

"Evan," he said softly, "We followed you because you weren't a dictator. You weren't like Dumbledore or Fudge or Voldemort. You let people make their own decisions. You never stopped anyone from doing their own thing or organising their own missions if they wanted. You never even stopped someone if they wanted to go off alone on some crazy plan – Merlin, you usually joined them."

"Well someone had to make sure they didn't kill themselves," he said defensively and his brother's smile widened.

"That's exactly my point. And then there's the fact that you never forced anyone to follow orders they didn't want to. Not that that was much of a problem because we all _wanted_ to follow you."

Harry was by this stage pouting at him. Knowing that his brother would never willingly admit Neville was right about this – no matter what he thought – the elder twin changed the subject.

"So. To introduce or not to introduce?"

"This isn't fair. Why don't you decide?"

"Such are the burden's of leadership," he quipped cheerily.

"Fine," he huffed before adopting a thoughtful look, "I think, I think that we need to remember that it's not really them. We don't know what they're like here. But, what if they are the same people, they've just lead a somewhat different life?"

"There is the war to think about though," Neville pointed out, "That would have changed them a lot. They won't be exactly the same."

"Still, I don't think we should just throw away this chance. We'd regret it."

He looked to his brother to see if he agreed. Neville nodded.

"Yeah, I think we would," he took a steadying breath and smiled, "So, how do we go about this?"

Harry smiled back, "I say we make it up as we go along."

"You would," he snorted and then was whacked in the back of the head, "Hey, what was that for?"

"For the 'oblivious' comment. The hold on the offence was over."

With that he grinned and skipped back out to the main thoroughfare, Neville rolling his eyes and following along behind.

Side by side they approached their destination; a garishly coloured stall decorated in neon orange, lurid green and hot pink. Above the stall was a flashing neon sign – although how the proprietors had managed to get electricity working in Wizard's Square was anyone's guess – which read 'WWW'.

"Fred and George," a woman screeched, "When will the two of you stop this silly joke nonsense and get proper, respectable jobs?"

Fred and George looked much as they remembered. A little less buff and lacking a few scars but that was to be expected considering the peaceful times. Of course peaceful was relative when Mrs Weasley got it into her mind to lecture her children. She was berating her two sons quite soundly. The Franklin brothers both winced as her voice jumped an octave or two.

"Mum, would you-," one red haired twin began.

"Keep it down. You're scaring off customers," the other finished.

This of course set the woman off onto another tirade about showing proper respect for your elders. As the twins – the Weasley twins that is – began shifting from foot to foot in embarrassment, Harry threw them a sympathetic look.

In his home world Mrs Weasley had filled the position in his life of honorary mother or perhaps favourite aunt. Mr Weasley on the other hand was like a fun – if slightly quirky – uncle. While Harry had never stopped caring about either of them, Mrs Weasley unfortunately had an overly controlling personality, especially when it came to her children, a category in which she happened to include Harry. She also tended to insist on treating them as babies, trying to keep them out of the war by keeping them ignorant of what was going on. Needless to say he hadn't appreciated that fact.

In the end he had cut ties to them both. Not simply because of the aforementioned reasons – he could have coped with those. It was the fact that Mrs Weasley thought she always knew what was best. That and that the only person she would concede to was Albus Dumbledore. She thought the man could do no wrong. Mr Weasley, although a good man, felt he had no choice but to support his wife. Naturally they had both then found themselves firmly on the side of the Order of the Phoenix. And thus, by default, firmly against Harry himself.

Shuffling over to the stand the chocolate haired twins pretended to be browsing the products on display. Sharing a glance, they both nodded, coming to a decision. Neville picked up a Canary Cream and turned to talk loudly to his brother.

"Look at this. It says it turns a person into a human sized canary for a few moments."

"Really," he acted surprised and noticed Fred and George glancing their way from the corner of his eye, "That must have taken a lot of work. First one would have to create an activation charm which links to either a transfiguration spell or potion. Then there's the spell or potion itself. It would have to be quite precise, making sure all the internal organs rearrange appropriately. If it's a potion they must have created it from scratch too. Or if it's a transfiguration- well, you can't just use the standard human to canary spell, not at human size."

"Oh, definitely not." Neville agreed enthusiastically and they both saw they now had Mrs Weasleys attention now also.

"Then they would have had to find a way to store the charm along with the potion or transfiguration spell – whichever it is they used – in the confection and a way to set the charm to only work once the treat is consumed. Not to mention – if it's a spell and not a potion – there must be an inbuilt timer. And, they would have had to somehow make sure said timer wasn't destroyed by the consumption of the Canary Cream so that it can set off a second activation charm linked to a the reverse transfiguration required to change the person back again. It's all really quite brilliant," he said admiringly.

"Yes, quite a marvel of magic!"

By the time they had finished they had also gained the attention of a number of other fair-goers. They all looked quite intrigued. The Weasley boys they could see were grinning happily, noticing their mum was now the one shifting in embarrassment – no doubt since she had recently been lecturing them on how pointless their creations were. Taking advantage of her hesitation they bounced over to Neville and Harry.

"They forgot the most difficult part," Fred said.

"Oh, indeed they did brother mine," George agreed.

"What part was that?" Harry played along, struggling to look curious and not break into laughter.

"Why the recipe for the custard creams of course," George said as though it should be obvious.

"That's not just any old custard cream," Fred explained, "It's our very own recipe."

"So not only is your wheeze fun and entertaining,"

They both finished, "It tastes fantastic as well!"

That seemed to be the cue, as all the passers-by who had stopped to listen surged forward to look over all the products.

Harry noticed Mrs Weasley looking hesitant but ignored her in favour of a detailed debate between Fred, Neville and himself about the pros and cons of transfiguring or merely creating glamour illusions. George meanwhile, was busy taking orders and manning the register.

Eventually the customers dispersed, laded with joke items, and George came over to join their conversation. Not wanting to risk turning around, Harry whispered to them both.

"Is she gone?"

The Weasley's eyes flickered briefly over his shoulder before identical grins broke out on their faces.

"She waved goodbye just as I began ringing up all the purchases-" George told them.

"And disappeared around the corner not two seconds ago."

Neville sighed, "Good. I don't know how much further I could stretch my knowledge of transfiguration and illusion spells."

"Well, my brother and I must thank you both most heartily," Fred said with mock formality and leaned over to shake Neville's hand with gusto.

George did the same for Harry, "Our mother, she means well and all-"

"But, she's not exactly supportive of our chosen vocational direction."

At his brother's confused look, Harry leaned towards him and said.

"Career path."

"Oh, well we didn't do much," Neville said modestly.

"Please," Fred scoffed, "My brother and I-"

"Are the masters of distraction and misdirection-"

"And what you just did-"

"Was a masterful display of both."

"Perhaps," he agreed with a smile, "But we did mean it; your jokes are brilliant."

"Well it's appreciated. And where are our manners? The name's Fred Weasley. Pleasure to meet you both. And this is my brother-"

"George Weasley, but call me Forge-"

"And me Gred. It's simply an honour to meet you," he said, mockingly pompous.

"Nice to meet you two as well," Harry said with a smile, "I'm Evan Franklin."

"And I'm Leander Franklin."

"Call him Lea, I do," he said before whispering sarcastically, "He really does prefer it."

Sigh, "I'd argue but I know when to choose my battles," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, we must find a way to thank you both," George said.

"Oh, there's no need fo-" Neville went to object but was cut off by Fred.

"Well of course there's a need. You defended us from the banshee woman posing as our mother."

"Not only that brother mine. After our new friends' little speech we sold more product and made more profit than we usually do over two whole Fair days."

"Well, that clinches it doesn't it then? We must insist-"

"You join us for lunch."

"Our treat."

Since neither Harry nor Neville actually wanted to decline, they agreed. The Weasleys soon left their stall to the capable hands of Lee Jordan and a vaguely familiar witch who they hired to cover the lunch hour, and then both sets of twins made their way over to the Leaky Cauldron.

..ooOOoo..

"So you never went to Hogwarts?" George's incredulous voice cried out.

The four of them were ensconced in a booth at the Leaky Cauldron enjoying plates of Tom's best toasted cheese sandwiches and bottles of butterbeer.

"Nope, our aunt didn't like magic too much and she was very set on us getting a Muggle education. She's not the kind of woman you argue with," Neville explained.

The boys had decided that their 'aunt' would be a woman with Harry's Aunt Petunia's values – especially on magic – and Neville's Gran's strong and overbearing personality. That way they could each talk about her with a much more convincing familiarity.

"So, you can do magic can't you?" asked the other redhead.

"Oh, we had magic tutors," Harry assured them, "It was kind of a bargaining point though. We could only learn magic if we did all our chores-"

"And all of hers-" Neville added.

"And didn't make a nuisance of ourselves-"

"And got good marks in 'proper' Muggle school-"

"And most importantly, didn't give the neighbours any reason to gossip," Harry said, finishing their rather Fred and George-ish run.

"Blimey," George said, looking sympathetic, "That sounds-"

"Terrible," said his equally sympathetic brother before they both brightened, "But just know, if you're wanting to perhaps get back at the old shrew-"

"We are the proprietors of the best joke business around," they chimed together and their audience of two laughed.

"As tempting as that is," Harry said, "We left her behind for the wizarding world as soon as we were old enough.

"Exactly," his brother agreed, "And we swore we wouldn't ever set eyes on her again. Not even for a joke."

"Was she really that bad-" Fred asked.

"That you'll never see her again-"

"Even though she's family?"

"Blood she may be, but family she is not," Neville said sagely

"Fair enough," George shrugged, "Guess it's just hard to understand for us."

"As much of a prat as our brothers are occasionally-"

"And as much of a banshee our mother can be-"

"We still love them all loads," Fred finished.

"You have a big family then?" Harry asked, as though he didn't know.

"Huge. There's mum and dad and including us-"

"Seven siblings in all."

"Bill's the oldest. He works as a Curse Breaker for Gringotts."

"Charlie is next. He's a Dragon Handler in Romania."

"Percy the prat works at the Ministry under Mr Crouch."

"Then there's the wonderful us, who you already know about."

"Then there's ickle Ronniekins. He'd be about your age. Works part-time at Quality Quidditch Supplies and mooches off mum the rest of the time."

"Lastly is our little sister Gin-Gin. Ginny has a reserve position on a small time Quidditch team and works at Quality Quidditch the rest of the time with Ron."

"What about your dad?" Neville asked as his brother polished off his butterbeer and signalled a waitress.

"Dad's the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," George said.

"His actually a bit Muggle crazy," Fred told them, "Loves everything to do with them."

"He has a plug collection."

The Franklin brother's faces showed their amused disbelief – convincingly contrived – before the waitress came around to their table.

"What can I get you?" she asked with in a bored tone.

"I'll have another butterbeer thanks," Harry said and raised an eyebrow at the others, "What about you three? Want another? On me."

"I'm alright," Neville said, "Only halfway through the one I've got."

"My brother and I will have another," Fred said, "But we must-"

"Insist upon paying. That was the point of lunch after all," finished the other.

He nodded to the waitress and she returned with their drinks, scooping up the coins George put down for her and pottering away again. Harry and the Weasleys popped the cork from their bottles and the redheaded two look on in confusion as Neville automatically collected them up and tucked them in his robe pocket.

"That's the second time you've done that," one redhead said.

The other added, "What are you planning to do with them, build butterbeer cork houses?"

"Oh," Neville looked down at his pocket in surprise, "I honestly didn't realise I did it."

Seeing sadness overtaking his brother's features, Harry stepped in.

"We used to have a friend who collected them. She used to make Leander carry them for her. I guess it's just become automatic."

After that he skilfully steered the conversation off in a different direction. They all sat there for another half hour or so, chatting and sipping at their drinks. Eventually however time was up and Fred and George needed to get back to their stall.

"Well, we'd best get going before Lee and Gina get tired of waiting," George said as they all stood.

"Or worse," Fred said, "Demand overtime."

They shuddered and the other two chuckled.

"Well it was nice meeting you both," Neville said politely.

"And it was spiffing to meet the two of you also," Fred said and bowed dramatically.

"Feel free to stop by our stall anytime," George bowed also, "We're at Wizard's Fair ever month."

And with that they waved goodbye and were gone.

After they had left the remaining two sat back down, contemplating the meeting. Neville looked up at his brother with a small smile.

"I'm glad we decided to meet them again."

"Yeah," Harry's uncertain expression changed to a smile of his own, "So am I. They're just like I remember."

"I know. I mean, I realise they're not really the same people, but I think that we could all still be good friends," he screwed up his nose, "We'll just have to be careful not to make any slip-ups around them – not say anything we shouldn't know yet."

"Yeah. Who knows, maybe one day we'll know them well enough to tell them the truth.

Neville grinned, "They'd love that. They'd think it the greatest prank, us secretly knowing them all along."

Harry grinned too and agreed.

"Well," he took a swig of his butterbeer, emptying the bottle, "We should probably get going. I wanted to stop by the Owl Office before we head home."

"No library today?" Neville asked, stacking the used plates and empty bottles on a tray for the waitress.

"No. I think I'll have the rest of the day off. Besides, I'm not really getting anywhere. The only information I can seem to find on the Fidelius Charm is what it is and does – nothing on how to cast it."

They both stood up and started heading towards the back door of the pub, weaving between tables as they went.

"Well, if it's that uncommon, chances are it'll only be found in a few really rare and no doubt ancient books."

"I'd already guessed that much," he said annoyed and got rolled eyes in response.

"I mean, that the chances of something that rare just being in a public library are pretty slim," as Harry looked defeated he hurried to add, "But that doesn't mean it's hopeless."

"Really? What do you suggest then?" he asked, withdrawing his wand and opening the portal into Diagon Alley.

"Chances are a few of the old pure-blood families might have something. They tend to accumulate libraries over the generations."

"So we just randomly owl some pure-blood families asking for books?" he sounded sceptical.

"Well, no. That was one of two options."

"And the second?" he asked, distractedly as they passed the Quidditch store.

"There's this second hand book shop that's known to take requests. And from what I've heard they're quite good at tracking down what you're looking for."

"Really?" he asked excitedly, "Where is it?"

"..nnrn…lley…" the blue eyed man mumbled.

"Lea, you're going to have to speak a little clearer," he said, curious now.

"Knockturn Alley," he said, cringing as he waited for the outburst.

"Knockturn Alley!?" at the stares from passers-by he dragged his friend into a small side alley, "Knockturn Alley? Since when do we frequent that place?"

"Well the thing is, the only time we ever went there was after the war was in full swing," he said quietly, so as not to be overheard by anyone.

"Yeah, I know. That informant – Red Viper – he always insisted on meeting at the pub down there. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, it was only after the war that the place became so dark," at the sceptical look he hurriedly added, "Okay, so it's always been dark. But just because there are no dark shops on Diagon doesn't mean there aren't any light ones in Knockturn."

Another sceptical look, "Light?"

"Well, maybe grey or less dark rather than light. Either way it didn't become completely entrenched in the Dark Arts until Diagon was destroyed."

Sigh, "Okay, I know you're not the sort to exaggerate about something like this so I'll just ask – is it dangerous?"

"Hmm," he look thoughtful and stated slowly, "Less so than our version of Diagon Alley is."

A snort, "Well, that's terribly reassuring," he said sardonically, "Okay, I'll check it out tomorrow. For now, let's get us a Daily Prophet subscription."

They slipped back onto the main thoroughfare and continued on their way until they reached their destination. The Owl Office was a small but well patronised building, squashed between Gringotts and Madam Malkin's. It was two stories high, the top floor looking to be an Owlery. Flocks of birds departed with various newspapers and magazines in claw and returned without. Over the front of the building hung a sign done in purple and bronze, proclaiming it to be '_Newt's News_'.

Neville waited outside as Harry slipped through the door, the bell above it ringing as he did so. There were a few customers about at the moment, including a gaggle of girls ooh-ing and ah-ing over the teen magazines in the corner.

Ignoring them Harry made his way to the counter as the man there paid for his newspaper and left. The woman behind the counter looked up as he approached.

"What can I do for you sir?" she asked.

"I wanted to get a subscription to the Daily Prophet."

"Certainly," she pulled a form from beneath the bench, handing it to him along with a quill "If you'll just fill this out."

He stepped to the side, allowing her to serve another wizard as he filled in the form. Name, most common address, likelihood of overseas trips, length of subscription and for some reason favourite colour were only some of the questions asked, followed by his signature at the bottom.

The other man soon finished his business and he stepped back in front of the cashier, handing her the form. She looked it over briefly and nodded.

"This is all fine. Now let's see. You ordered the one year subscription."

She gave him the price and he handed over the appropriate change. Then she signed his form and filled it in a drawer behind the counter before giving him a smile.

"All done. Your first newspaper will be delivered tomorrow."

And with that he left the store – only to find himself face first on the ground. Without a second thought he reflexively rolled over, pulling the body that had pushed him down beneath him, and pressed a firm arm against the culprit's neck. It all happened in but a moment but once he realised what he had done he blinked and quickly started to apologise. The apology however was interrupted before it could be finished by a squeaking sound off to the side. Looking over he felt his breath leaving him in a rush as he gazed upon a very familiar form with huge green eyes and bat-like ears. It was Dobby.

"How dare you accost me like this?" a snooty and indignant voice drew his attention back to the man pinned beneath him, "Do you know who I am?"

His arm automatically began pressing down more firmly on the neck it rested against before was able to stop himself. Quickly though, he gathered his wits and jumped to his feet. He felt someone come up behind him and looked to see that it was Neville. His brother's face bore a thunderous expression, directed at the blonde now rising to his feet.

"I am Draco Malfoy, heir to the great Malfoy family, and I've a mind to see you in Azkaban for this."

Harry saw his brother taking slow deep breaths and did the same. This man was supposed to be a stranger to him. It would be more than a little suspicious if two people he had never met were to hate him on sight.

"I apologise, I didn't mean to run into you," he said as politely as he could manage before looking at the cowering Dobby, his expression softening, "And I apologise to your house-elf too, for scaring him."

He had made the latter comment automatically, without thinking. However, as he stared at Dobby's wide, surprised eyes brimming with tears, he realised just what he had done. A glance in Neville's direction showed he had realised too and was quite amused. Harry Potter had once again made an obsessive fan of the house-elf Dobby.

"Are you mad?"

Malfoy on the other hand – he now saw – was staring at him with an incredulous expression. Clearly he thought someone who would apologise to his 'lowly servant' must be more than a few Knuts short of a Sickle. Not to mention the fact that a mere moment ago he had been effectively pinned to the ground by said someone. After a few moments uncomfortable silence his face – which had been screwed up in disbelief – slowly transformed into a wary expression, as though the crazy man might turn on him at any second.

"No," Harry assured him cheerfully, amused at his cautious attitude, "I'm perfectly sane. The pink Hippogriff on my shoulder always tells me so."

Draco's eyes flickered momentarily to said shoulder and back again, backing away slowly.

"Right… well I'll just be going. Dobby, come!"

And with that he turned and strode away as fast as dignity would allow. Dobby paused just long enough to throw Evan a fawning expression before hurry to catch up to his master.

After both had disappeared from sight the twins stared at one another in silence, amused looks covering their faces.

"Who would have thought crazy people would disconcert the bastard so much?" Harry wondered aloud with a chuckle.

Neville laughed also, before he sobered.

"I guess I hadn't stopped to think about it. Dobby here is stuck with the Malfoys," he said quietly and they both shivered at the thought, "He just doesn't look like Dobby without his colourful socks. And did you see the bruises on his arms and chest, and the burns on his fingers?"

Another shiver, "I know, it's horrible. There must be something we can do to free him here like I did back home."

"What are the chances of you being able to trick one of the Malfoys into giving him a sock again?" the blue eyed brother pointed out realistically, "It's a miracle it worked the first time."

He knew his brother was right but he also knew if the opportunity arose both of them would have Dobby freed in a heartbeat. As it was though, the elf remained enslaved to some of the worst possible masters – one being the very man who had killed him in another universe. And so it was that the two brothers made their way home that day in much lower spirits than they had been only hours before

..ooOOoo..

**Reviews make me happy (hint, hint).**


	6. Chapter 5: Rooke’s Books

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Rooke's Books**

**Mon, 26/9/2005**

Striding down Diagon Alley Evan paused momentarily as he reached his turnoff. Giving the shadowed street a dubious look he pursed his lips before deciding to get on with it. Wand grasped firmly in his hand – and hidden by the sleeves of his robe – he turned into Knockturn Alley. Long-time habits unconsciously returned to him as he walked; his stride gained a sort of liquid grace that screamed 'fighter' and his eyes flickered constantly – guardedly – towards shadows and alcoves, cautiously searching out any possible threats. His actions were not at all lost on Knockturn's residents and they all steered clear of the dangerous looking stranger, letting him pass unmolested.

A fair distance into the dark Alley – far enough that Diagon could no longer be seen in the distance – he found the shop he had been searching for. Staring at the rather worn looking building whose hanging sign read '_Rooke's Books_', he flicked his wand and discretely cast a few revealing and ward diagnostic spells.

'Ministry standard building wards: fireproofing, anti-pest and waterproofing on the roof,' he thought silently, as the results of his spells returned, 'and – hmm, what's this – spells to discourage theft, violence or speaking to Ministry officials of business conducted on the premises,' he smirked, 'all probably standard here in Knockturn.'

Satisfied the building posed no immediate threat to him he nodded to himself and approached the edifice. Reaching a hand to the door handle he turned it down and stepped through and into the shop. He then stood still a moment as the door swung closed behind him, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light and taking in his surroundings.

It was a medium sized store and currently empty of customers. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined walls and crossed the floors, stuffed full with books of all sorts. The few windows were heavily curtained so as not to let in light – possibly because dark stores seemed to be a Knockturn theme but perhaps also to protect the books from sun damage. The candles placed about were all very carefully positioned so as to protect the stock from possible damage by errant flames. Unfortunately – given how crammed in the bookshelves were – there were few positions where it was safe to set up lights. As a result, there were far too few candles lit to give the shop proper illumination. Harry expected that he would need a Lumos spell to read any of the titles in the more shadowed rows.

Towards the rear of the shop there was a break in the wall-lining shelves where a door stood, no doubt leading to a back room. In front and slightly to the side of the door was the only other piece of furniture the room contained; a large wooden counter. Much like the rest of the shop, the surface of the desk was cluttered with books, though a space had been cleared – most likely for tallying up purchases – at the front of which was set a brass bell.

Seeing as the shopkeeper had yet to appear he stepped up to the desk and picked up the bell. Ringing it three times he then set it back down and waited. Silence – not even the sound of hurrying footsteps. He sighed. The owner was probably one of those 'I'll come when I'm good and ready' sorts. With nothing else to do but wait he decided to simply browse around to see if he could find what he was looking for.

Approaching the nearest shelf he observed the mess of books with a doubtful eye. There seemed to be no particular filing system to the bookshelves; more of a 'stick it wherever it will fit' philosophy.

"Well," he murmured to himself, "It's a good thing I had nothing else to do today."

Decided, he drew his wand and lit it before beginning a search of the shelves.

There were two particular subjects that he was looking for books about today. The first – and initial reason for his brother suggesting the store to him – was the Fidelius Charm. However after yesterday's events and the conversation he and Neville had had last night, there was also a second topic he was interested in. As he worked his way down the shelves his allowed his mind to wander back to last night's conversation.

..ooOFLASHBACKOoo..

**Sun, 25/9/2005**

After an uncomfortably quiet dinner, fraught with tension, the Franklin brothers had both sat themselves down in their living room, staring distantly into the flickering flames in the hearth. After several long moments of further silence Neville finally spoke up.

"We need to help Dobby," he said, emotion clear in his voice, "I know he's not the elf we knew, but still- we can't just leave him there."

Harry nodded, "No, no we can't. So the question is: how do we get him out? Maybe we could buy him," seeing his brother opening his mouth to object he added, "In disguise of course. I doubt the ferret would want anything to do with me after today. He's probably worried my apparent insanity is catching."

Neville smiled slightly at that but still shook his head.

"It still wouldn't work," he told his frowning brother, "Do you not know anything about house-elf bonds?"

"I know that it stops them from disobeying their masters and that clothing from their master will free them."

"There's a bit more to it than that," Neville told him, "And a very important reason that the bonds are intended to be life-long."

"Why is that?"

"Because once the elf is freed or changes to a new master, they no longer need to keep their old master's secrets."

"Really?" Harry asked, eyes wide in surprise, "But why would wizards have made the bond that way in the first place? I don't see any of the old, dark, pure-blood families taking that kind of risk."

"It has something to do with the nature of house-elves," Neville explained, "It's an instinctive part of their character to be devoted to serving. There's a reason most house-elves don't want to be freed; being bonded to a family guarantees they have people to serve. Most freed house-elves who don't find someone or somewhere else to serve quickly usually die of depression or go insane," he frowned then, "Something Granger would have found out during her S.P.E.W. efforts if she had actually cared more about the elves than her own self-righteous views of right and wrong."

Harry listened to this explanation with fascination; he'd never heard any of this information before. He wondered though why Dobby had instead seemed to revel in freedom and asked his brother just that. Neville grimaced before explaining.

"The thing was I don't think Dobby was entirely sane," at his brother's expression of objection he quickly added, "Oh, come on! You can't deny that. Don't get me wrong – Dobby was family and we all would have died to protect each other, but that doesn't change the fact that he was always a bit unhinged," he snorted then and a fond look overcame his face, "Can you imagine any sane or non-colour blind person with the wardrobe tastes Dobby had?"

At that Harry let his anger recede and couldn't help but laugh as well.

"Okay so Dobby was a bit kooky," he conceded, "It that because he was freed? You said free elves either become depressed or insane."

"No, I don't think so," Neville shook his head, "From what you've said he wasn't your average house-elf even before you freed him."

"So…" he trailed off, looking questioningly at his brother's grave expression.

"House-elves are born to serve. They thrive on it even if their masters don't treat them well. Most would rather die that be set free; that's how important it is to them. For Dobby to have ever reached the state that he was," he shuddered, "Merlin, I can't even imagine how inhumane the Malfoys must have been to make an elf _want_ freedom."

Harry's breath caught and he swallowed thickly.

"And in this world Dobby had been with them," he paused to calculate, "At least twelve more years than our Dobby was."

"Yeah…"

There was a moment of painful silence as they both reflected on that fact. Suddenly realising an inconsistency in his brother's explanation, Harry spoke up.

"Something else doesn't make sense with Dobby though. It seemed to me that over the last few years we knew him he settled down somewhat. I mean he still had his rainbow socks and football shorts but he was a lot more…" he struggled for the word, "Steady minded, I suppose. Heck, he could even be rather crafty and devious when the situation called for it. When I first met him that was way beyond his abilities – his idea of cleverly trying to help me with the Chamber fiasco was to nearly kill me by knocking me off my broom with a mad Bludger."

"You have a point," Neville nodded, "I think what really helped Dobby was following us and Luna when we fled Hogwarts."

"But I thought you said that having somewhere to serve helped keep an elf sane?" a thought occurred to him then, his expression suddenly becoming worried, "You don't think I did harm to him – letting him leave Hogwarts with us – do you?"

An exasperated sigh, "No Evan, I don't. You already pointed out that he was actually more – what was the word you used – 'steady-minded' after we left. The thing is that while a place to serve does help an elf, more than that they want a person or people. They need the personal connection that comes from serving a living human and seeing that their masters benefit from their work."

"So… okay, you've lost me."

"So, Dobby left the _place_ Hogwarts to serve the _person_ you," at his brother's horrified expression he rolled his eyes, "None of that now. It's not like you were his bonded master; Dobby chose to serve you of his own free will. I know it used to bother you that he called you master all the time-"

"Did it ever! It took me ages to convince him using my full name would be just as respectful, never mind the possibility of him just calling me 'Harry'."

"And the reason he agreed to it at all was because his chosen master demanded it. No, no- it's true," he said but his brother still seemed bothered.

"It's just the whole master and servant thing seems too Voldemort-like for my tastes."

"Okay, I can see that. Maybe you should look at it as a family thing?"

"Family?"

"Yeah. You were Dobby's main master-"

"And you were Winky's, weren't you?" Harry interrupted as that fact occurred to him.

"Yeah, I was," Neville nodded in assent, "But as I was saying: Dobby saw you as his main master, but towards the end he and Winky both served all of us – you, me, Luna, Fred and George."

"Okay, but this is helping with my Voldemort-likeness issues how?" he complained only to receive rolled eyes in response.

"If you'll let me finish?" he gave him a direct stare and Harry gave a mockingly condescending wave of assent, "Ta. As I was saying we were all like one big, hodgepodge family."

"You forgot 'unorthodox'."

"Fine – one big, hodgepodge, unorthodox family. And, as a family we all put in our share, didn't we?" he paused for his brother to nod in agreement, "So, even though Dobby and Winky both served us all, we all 'served' each other as well."

"I guess- yeah we did, didn't we? And, I suppose I doesn't bother me as much if I look at it like that. I can hardly see Voldemort as the sort to pull his own weight with his not-so-little dark army."

"Unless you call sitting back while others do the work, and Crucio-ing them if they make the slightest mistake, pulling his weight…"

Harry snorted, "Exactly. Anyway we've gotten off track. You were explaining the connection between bonds and secrets, remember?"

"Oh, Right. So, back to what I was saying. Elves are born for servitude and loyalty; they can't help being that way. The reason that the breaking or transferring of a bond also stops preventing the elf from telling its old master's secrets is because a house-elf's intrinsic loyalty to a master – in this case their new master – is far more powerful than any secrecy spell."

"Really?" Harry asked, intrigued, "I always thought that at least the magical oath on life and magic was unbreakable."

"Oh, that one is," the blue eyed brother nodded, "But when an elf makes a vow like that it will always be to its 'master'; they're incapable of making that kind of oath to a person by name. So, when they suddenly have a new master – or no master at all – the oath is invalidated."

A blink, "Oh. I guess that rules out buying Dobby then. The Malfoy family would never allow an elf with knowledge of all their family's dirty secrets to go free."

"Definitely not. That's also the reason I doubt you could trick them into freeing him again. The fact that it worked the first time was a complete fluke. They would normally be _much_ more careful, given what's at stake."

After that they sat in silence for a few moments, trying to brainstorm other possibilities. After several minutes of this Harry gave a frustrated groan and turned to the side, flopping down to lay on his back with his head resting on a throw pillow.

"I don't suppose we could steal him?" he asked doubtfully.

"No, the bond would just make him go back again."

"Then what can we do?" he asked impatiently.

"I don't know. Gran wasn't an elitist but she _was_ a traditionalist. She made sure I had the most thorough pure-blood education possible and that includes the topic of house-elves. Even with all that though, I still can't think of a solution," he sighed, "I think maybe our best bet is research."

"What about that Knockturn Alley bookshop I'm going to tomorrow? You said they were good at digging up what you're looking for right? Well maybe I should ask them to look into house-elf bonds for me."

"Actually," Neville said a hopeful smile slowly settling over his lips, "That sounds like a rather good idea."

And so the decision had been made.

..ooOENDFLASHBACKOoo..

**Mon, 26/9/2005**

Harry suddenly paused as a title caught his eye, bringing his thoughts fully back to the here and now. Passing his wand to his left hand he reached out and removed the book from the shelf. Kneeling on the floor he set the aged, leather-bound tome on his thighs, tracing over the faded title with curiosity.

"Hmm, '_The Primitive Magic of Magical Creatures_'," he read quietly.

Although entirely off topic from either the Fidelius or house-elves, the book had nonetheless grabbed his attention. It brought to mind the memory of Griphook's impressive display of Goblin-magic, creating the ledgers outside his and Neville's vaults. Easing the cover open – careful not to damage the obviously old book – he flicked through the first few yellowed pages before pausing at the contents.

"'_Song and Dance_'," he murmured, reading one of the listed chapters.

Once again he was reminded of Griphook – this time of the conversation they had had after he created the ledger for the vaults.

Harry recalled having said at the time that the chanting and the patterns his account manager used reminded him more of music and dancing than spell casting. To that, the Goblin had replied that many magical species did actually use music and dancing to perform their magics. He had also intimated to Harry that once upon a time, so too did wizards.

Before he could ponder more on that however, there was a creaking noise towards the back of the shop, as if a door was opening. He quickly replaced the tome, doused his wand, and headed back in that direction. Pausing at the edge of the stacks he observed the man who was now standing behind the counter.

The wizard appeared to be middle-aged, with flyaway greying hair and a businesslike expression. His robes – whilst not the latest style – were undeniably well made and of a superior fabric, indicating that business was good. That was a promising sign, to Harry's mind. For a mere Knockturn second-hand bookshop to do so well, the wizard's ability to scrounge up books of interest must be impressive enough to bring in plenty of customers.

Deciding he had observed enough, Harry stepped out into the light. The man looked up and gave a nod before speaking.

"I take it you're the one who was ringing for assistance?" asked the shopkeeper.

"Yes, that was me."

"Well, step up to the counter lad and tell me what you need," he ordered impatiently, "Name's Cyrus Rooke by the way. So, why'd you ring?"

Deciding to do as he asked Harry stepping up to the desk and began explaining.

"I'm Evan Franklin and I'm after books on the Fidelius Charm and house-elves," he replied succinctly, getting straight to the point.

"Hmm? Rather odd topics but that's really none of my business, is it?" he said, scratching his chin in thought, "I believe I have a few charms texts referencing the Secret Keeper Charm and some of the older magical creature texts – from back in the day when they were classified as beasts rather than beings – make mention of house-elves. Or were you looking for something a bit more particular?"

A nod, "I was actually. For the Fidelius I want information on the charm and in particular details as to the actual casting of it. For house-elves I want something in-depth about their bonds of servitude."

"Really?" Cyrus raised a curious eyebrow before shaking his head, "Well I don't think there's anything here covering that."

"My brother actually recommended this store," said Harry, not willing to give up yet, "He said that you'll sometimes take requests and have a look around?"

"Ah, did he now?" he asked but nodded all the same, "Yes that is true; for a small fee of course."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes – having expected nothing less from a Knockturn Alley merchant – and agreed. Soon enough Cyrus Rooke had made note of his requests and Harry handed over the small fee before exiting the shop, hopeful that the wizard would be able to find what he was looking for.

..ooOOoo..

**Fri, 30/9/2005**

Over the next few days nothing much happened. Neville kept himself busy mostly with tending the flourishing greenhouse, and had also taken advantage of all his free time to do some reading into healing. Though he had never had much time to dig to deeply into the subject, it was a topic that had long interested him. Initially the interest had arisen as a dream of curing his parents and – more recently – was intensified by the wish that he'd had the knowledge to save his wife.

Harry's activities since returning from the second hand bookstore however, had been somewhat less constructive. The truth was that the younger Franklin twin had taken to spending his time being a royal annoyance to his brother. It wasn't intentional of course – well alright it _was_ intentional, though not without reason. He'd by now finished setting up the library and had yet to receive news on a Fidelius or house-elf book, so annoying his blood-brother seemed as good a way to pass the time as any. Thus had Harry had spent the last four days popping up wherever Neville was, getting in the way, complaining about his boredom, and generally making a proper nuisance of himself.

After the first day of this, Neville had sympathetically realised that after so many years of war – with its constant action, movement and fighting – the unaccustomed peace and idleness of this world was too much for his brother. After the second day, whilst still somewhat sympathetic, he was also starting to get annoyed. By day three his sympathy had seriously waned and his irritation shot up several notches. By day four Neville was ready to strangle Harry, brother or no.

Neville had been working in the greenhouse when it happened. Finally at his wit's end, his patience had broke and he'd yelled at his irritating friend, demanding that he find something to occupy himself with lest he send them both mad. Harry, surprised at the forceful outburst from his usual affable brother, meekly agreed.

"Good," Neville nodded firmly.

"Right," Harry agreed hesitantly, "Only thing is- I'm not sure what exactly there is I can do."

"Well I know you finished setting up the library. Why don't you try reading something?"

He wrinkled his nose, "Nothing we have catches my interest at the moment."

A sigh, "There must be something in there obscure enough to entertain you."

"Well a few, but I've already read them all."

"All? You had to expand that room three times before all the books would fit. Surely there's something."

"Nothing."

With a longsuffering sigh Neville set down the trowel he had been using and leaned against the greenhouse wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, if you're absolutely sure there's nothing," he gave the green-eyed man a serious look.

"Absolutely, positively," Harry assured him and nodded with as much solemnity as he could, causing Neville's lips to twitch just a little.

"Well, why don't you go to Rowena's Library then? They're sure to have books you've not read. Or maybe Flourish and Blotts? There're probably new books out that never got a chance to be released in our world. You could even try that Rooke's Books again. From what you told me it's not likely to have anything new, but it does have some old and rare titles you're not likely to have seen before."

By the end of his listed suggestions Harry's expression had brightened considerably. Clearly one of the aforementioned options had caught his attention. Neville waited patiently to hear which one it was.

"You know Lea now that you mention it, there was this one book at Rooke's that I thought was a bit interesting. It was an old tome – practically falling apart – called 'The Primitive Magic of Magical Creatures'. I saw it when I was there before."

"Well, that sounds a bit random and unusual," he smiled then, "Pretty much to your tastes then."

"Exactly!"

Then, before Neville could make any further comment, Harry threw his brother a thankful grin and sped out the greenhouse. The blue-eyed man just smiled and picked up his abandoned trowel before turning back to his garden beds. Hopefully he would now be able to get some work done without constant, annoying interruptions.

..ooOOoo..

**Sun, 2/10/2005**

It was Sunday evening – an hour or so after dinner – and the twins were sprawled out on the living room couches, each reading in a book. As Neville and Harry flicked through 'Household Healing' and 'The Primitive Magic of Magical Creatures' respectively, conversation flowed freely between the two.

"I swear," Harry said with a frown, "This book must have been written by some pure-blood elitist type."

"I thought the title would have given that away Evan."

"Well, yeah. It's just that the author is so completely derogatory and condescending about magical beings and their abilities."

"It can't be that bad," Neville said, looking over at his brother, "I doubt you would have spent all weekend absorbed in it if it was that disappointing."

"No, but that's just the thing. It's annoying having to read through the slandering crap, but it's actually a really interesting book," Harry enthused, "The author keeps describing the magics as primitive. He's calls them uncivilised and unfocussed a lot as well. The thing is though, from what I've read, better descriptions would be powerful, instinctive and wide-ranging.

"To be honest," Harry continued excitedly, "I really like some of these types of magic – especially the instinctive aspects. Basically a lot of creatures base their magics on feelings, intuition and emotion. Don't know why but for some reason that really appeals to me."

"I'm not surprised," Neville commented, setting his own book aside, "You _have_ always had a sort of affinity for magic. Plus, your most impressive spells have mostly been done in emotional situations – usually life or death."

"That's true," Harry nodded in thoughtful agreement, "My best magic has almost always been a result of need and emotion."

"Rather the whole 'rigid control and precise wand movements and incantations' that the Professors at Hogwarts insist are necessary," Neville added.

"Exactly. Like the Patronus Charm for one. The first time I managed to make it corporeal was when I had to use it to save myself and Sirius from some hundreds of Dementors. Then there was the Summoning Charm which I got quite good at. I had to learn that one to escape death by dragon."

"And then that's not even counting all the hexes and curses you've perfected in battle situations over the years," Neville added, "Yeah, I can see why magic based on instinct would suit you. Your magic pretty much works that way already."

"Honestly, I'm even more eager to try out some of the magics myself now."

Neville blinked in surprise, Harry having never told him that he was interested in actually testing the methods in his new book.

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked in confusion.

Harry shrugged, "Partly curiosity, partly whim," he admitted.

"Would it even be possible? I mean, what if the spells and such aren't compatible with humans?"

"There's a chapter in the book titled '_Song and Dance_'," Harry said as though that should explain things.

"And?" Neville asked, not understanding his brother's point.

"Remember when Griphook made the ledger outside my vault?" he asked and Neville nodded, "And I commented on how the Goblin-magic reminded me of music and dancing. And he said lots of magical species use just that and that-"

"Wizards and witches used to as well," Neville finished for him, recalling the conversation himself.

"Right."

"So you're really going to try it then?"

"Well, I want to. The only problem is that the book doesn't have any specific, practical directions, so I'm somewhat stuck."

"Hmm."

"'Hmm'? 'Hmm' what?"

"I was just thinking- if Griphook was right you'd think more people would know about it."

"You think he was wrong?"

"What?" he looked confused then shook his head, "Oh, no. No- what I was thinking was that if most everyday witches and wizards don't remember that we used to used singing and dancing and other methods, the only way you'll likely find information on them is probably by searching out old tomes or else books focussed on ancient and forgotten wizarding magic."

"Yeah," Harry nodded in agreement, "You're probably right."

..ooOOoo..

**Mon, 3/10/2005**

The very next day Harry had left the house in search of information on his newest topic of interest. After a rather disappointing hunt through Flourish and Blotts he had quickly come to the conclusion that recent publications had little – if any – information on old-fashioned and out-of-use wizarding magics. What small amount they did have was either mentioned only in passing or else was not quite what he was looking for.

In desperation he had even looked at some of the more comprehensive volumes on magical creatures. Unfortunately it seemed that either other races kept the details of their magics secret, or the wizarding world was simply too arrogant and/or lazy to show a detailed interest in the topic. Personally, Harry suspected a combination of the two.

Feeling a little disappointed he decide to give Rooke's Books a try and headed towards the Knockturn Alley shop he was fast becoming familiar with. After a good ten minutes of searching the bookshop's overstocked and unorganised stacks, Cyrus Rooke decided to make an appearance.

"Back again I see Mr Franklin. Were you looking for anything in particular lad?"

He looked up at the shopkeeper from the low shelf he was bent over searching, and gave a sigh, relieved and grateful for the offer of assistance.

"Actually I am. Do you happen to have any books on old or almost forgotten wizarding magics?" he asked, "Anything from before we became so solely focussed on wands is probably what I'm looking for."

"Try the ones along the wall back, second bookcase from the left. Should be some there that'd suit what you're looking for."

"Thanks," he said gratefully and headed in that direction.

After much further searching of the indicated bookcase, Harry happened to discover a dusty and obviously ignored volume stuffed behind the books on the second shelf from the bottom. It was entitled '_Olde Magicks_'. Briefly flipping through the volume he was pleased and intrigued to find mention of song, dance, invoking spirits, blood rituals, divination methods, spirit familiars and several other topics. This was exactly what he had been searching for – and more – and he decided immediately that he would buy it.

As he went to stand up he spotted another book, this one on the very bottom shelf. Squatting back down he saw that the spine read '_The Noble Arte of Healing_'. With a frown he stared at the book thoughtfully as he traced the title. He was unsure of what it was exactly, but something about the book seemed 'off' – though not necessarily in a bad way. Giving a shrug he dismissed his confusion and – thinking that Neville might find an old volume about Medimagic interesting – decided to buy this second book also, to give to his friend.

Pulling the medical text from the shelf he stood and made his way back out of the stacks. As he placed both items on the counter Rooke gave him a strange look.

"Don't know what you plan to do with that book of gibberish," the shop-wizard said before shaking his head and shrugging, "All the same, not my business. I'll just be glad to finally be rid of it."

Confused and surprised at the man's comments he looked down at the indicated book and focused on it for a moment. It was only through excellent control of his own reflexes that he managed not to jerk in shock as he watched the writing seemingly transform into a collection of serpentine scribbles. Somehow, despite never having seen the language before or having even known it existed, he instinctively realised just what he was looking at. The healing book was written in Parseltongue. 'Well,' he thought silently, 'at least now I know why it seemed odd somehow.'

Not wanting to give the secret away he looked up at Rooke with a carefully casual expression.

"Figured it'd make a good coffee table book," he said and gave a careless smile, "If nothing else it'd confuse guests and make for an interesting conversation starter."

Cyrus Rooke just gave an appreciative chuckle and resumed tallying the bill.

..ooOOoo..

By the time that Harry arrived home it was getting late and was time for dinner to be started. And so, despite his curiosity about the book in Parselscript – as he had cleverly named the written language – he reluctantly set down his purchases and headed into the kitchen.

Ten minutes into his preparations he heard Neville come in through the back door then stop to wash his hands in the laundry sink before stepping through into the kitchen.

"Need a hand with anything Evan?" the elder twin asked, watching the younger deftly slice up an onion.

Harry snorted, "Please, do I look like a masochist?"

"Hey," Neville objected, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a disaster in the kitchen Lea and we both know it. Need I remind you of the time you gave us all food poisoning?"

Neville flushed in embarrassment at the reminder of that unfortunate incident, whilst his brother merely smirked.

"Well, I was going to ask how your day was," the blue-eyed man said sulkily, "But now I don't care."

"I'm devastated, I'm sure," Harry shot back sarcastically.

He smiled mirthfully as Neville then left the kitchen in an indignant huff – mumbling that he was heading up to the bathroom to clean up properly – and focussed back on preparing their meal.

An hour or so later dinner was almost ready.

"Leander!" he called out to his brother, "I'm nearly done here so could you set the table?"

After several moments with no response he rolled his eyes, hoping his housemate hadn't tripped over something and knocked himself unconscious… again. With an impatient sigh he resolved to do the job himself and collected up the needed crockery and cutlery. As he headed to the living area and began setting everything out on the table he paused, surprised to see Neville was sitting just nearby in the living room, seemingly engrossed in a book.

Wiping his hands off on a tea towel and throwing the rag over his shoulder he approached the lounge and leaned against the side of the unoccupied couch, legs crossed and arms folded. Inspecting his brother's reading choice he raised an eyebrow as he realised it was 'The Noble Arte of Healing' – the Parselscript book.

"You know, if you were just looking to get out of setting the table you could have at least chosen a more convincing supposed distraction," he drawled, "Like – oh, I don't know – maybe something you could read."

Neville's head snapped up as though truly surprised to see him there – and Harry had to give him kudos for his acting skills – before the blue eyes for some reason rolled in exasperation.

"Ha, _ha_," the elder Franklin pouted then looked back down at his book, "I know it's a little bit advanced but I'm not an idiot and I _have_ been reading up on healing a lot lately, in case you had forgotten."

At the strange silence that followed Neville again looked up from his reading only to be faced with the image of his twin gaping at him in shock. Wondering if it was something he'd said, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"W-what?" he stutteringly inquired of the still silent wizard.

"I- you- the-"

Harry continued spluttering rather ineffectually before snapping his mouth shut and plonking himself gracelessly down onto the couch he'd been leaning against. After a few calming breaths he tried to speak again.

"Did you just say that the book was about healing?"

"Yeeees," he said slowly, clearly confused at the question.

"So you can read it?"

"Yes," Neville was now frowning, wondering if his friend might not somehow have been hit with a Confundus, "Are you alright? It's just-"

"No, no, I'm fine," Harry assured.

After a moment's thought he got up from his seat only to plop back down on the other couch, so that he was now sitting beside his brother. Then, without bothering to ask permission, he grabbed the book from Neville's hands and focussed on the page. 'Yep' he thought, 'still Parselscript.'

"Are you absolutely sure you're alright?"

At the concerned tone he looked up at his blood-brother's worried face and shook his head. 'Well,' he supposed to himself, 'there's one way to know for sure.' Decision made he laid the tome across both their laps and pointed to the beginning of a paragraph halfway down one page.

"Read this," Harry said.

"Why-"

"Now," he ordered succinctly.

Neville sighed, "Okay, it says: '_Studies have shown that this fever – whist not directly fatal – can bring about death by the exposure of a recovered body to the common cold. This occurs due to the reaction between the fever's resultant lingering affects and the sneezing that so often accompanies_-"

"That's enough," Harry said and slouched down in his seat and tilted his head backwards.

As he absently inspected the ceiling he contemplated what this could mean. Well okay, it was pretty obvious what it meant. The real question was, how had they never known about it before? Unless he'd kept it a secret? But, no; that couldn't be it. He knew his brother and knew he would at least have told Harry if he'd known. Neville wouldn't have wanted his friend to be burdened with thinking he was alone in possessing the supposedly dark talent. So then why had it never been mentioned before? Unless- he suddenly sat up straight.

"The blood-brother ritual!" he blurted out.

"The blood-brother ritual?" the still confused Neville echoed, "What about it?"

Shaking his head he realised he needed to explain from the beginning.

"I saw this today in Rooke's Books and something about it seemed different," he explained, "That's why it caught my eye."

Neville nodded, "Yeah, I know what you mean. I thought maybe there might be some sort of enchantment on it so I checked," he then shook his head, "There's only the usual waterproofing and preserving charms and such."

"Right, well I saw the title and thought it might interest you so I took it up to buy it and Rooke – the owner – said the strangest thing," he explained then paused.

"Well spit it out already," the elder brother demanded after the silence began to lengthen uncomfortably.

Harry frowned accusingly "That was supposed to be a dramatic pause. You were meant to be all entranced and curious and ask me what happened next."

A snort, "Sorry," he said insincerely before adopting an eager, breathy tone, "What happened next?"

"Thank you, that was much better," he smiled before returning to the story, "So Rooke said to me that he didn't know what I was going to do with a book of gibberish."

Neville frowned in confusion, glancing down at the book in question and back up again.

"Gibberish? I mean it's not exactly up to date on a few things but from what I've read it's rather brilliant overall. There's some remedies in here I've never even heard of."

"Well, I can't comment on that since I haven't read much of it yet – plus I know nothing about healing to compare it to – but I do know that Mr Rooke was referring more to the writing than the content."

"The writing?" he asked, still frowning in confusion, "What did he mean? It's handwritten rather than printed and the script is a bit old-fashioned I suppose, but it's legible enough all the same."

Harry nodded, "Oh, yes. Definitely legible," he paused a beat, "Provided you can read the language."

"Language? But it's in English."

He shook his head in denial then watched in amusement as his brother's frown became more pronounced, his confusion intensifying. Eager to see the reaction when he revealed what he had discovered, he decided to get to the point and explain.

"Look at the page and focus on the writing."

His blood-brother gave him a bewildered look before deciding to go along with it and doing just that.

"Okay," he said, "Should I be seeing something in particular?"

Harry frowned at the lack of surprise before realising what was wrong.

"You need to focus on the actual writing, not the words."

"The writing not the words? Why-"

"Just do it," he snapped impatiently.

The younger twin watched as his companion followed the directions, muttering under his breath about "bossy brothers" before cutting off suddenly, eyes widening.

"What the-?" was all the wizard managed to say.

"Surprising, huh?" Harry grinned.

"What is this? I'm sure there was no spells on it that could change the text. And why squiggles?"

"Those squiggles brother dear, are what I have unofficially dubbed 'Parselscript'."

"Parselscript?" Neville looked confused before his eyes widened in realisations, "Wait- Parselscript? As in Parsel-"

"-tongue and Parselmouth," he nodded, grinning widely at his twin's stupefied expression, "That's exactly right."

"B-but. H-how can- I didn't even know t-that-" he looked helplessly at his amused friend, "Evan, please explain this before my brain explodes."

Harry burst into laughter and after a moment Neville too joined in.

"Okay, so maybe my brain won't literally explode but- oh! That's what you meant before. You think the blood-brother ritual somehow made me a Parselmouth as well, right?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Remember, Luna's notes said the purpose of the original blood-adoption ritual was so children could be adopted not only by law, but also by blood and…"

"Magic!" Neville finished.

"Just so. Now I don't know the specifics – because you know I'm a complete dunce at runes – but the ritual basically blends us together somewhat by sharing random aspects of ourselves with each other. So, from what I can guess, it must have taken my magical ability to speak the snake language, and blended that into your magic."

"Making me a Parselmouth as well."

"Yep."

The two then sat in silence, each contemplating what this would mean. After a few minutes, Harry began to feel nervous. It was all very amusing seeing his friend's reaction to the news of course, but now that everything was out in the open he was worried. Being a Parselmouth was generally viewed as a dark talent – or at least it was in their world, he could only assume the same was true for here. He himself had received much suspicion and anger from the public when his possessing the ability had become widely known. Of course the reaction was no doubt exacerbated by the fact that the Chamber of Secrets fiasco was going on. Not to mention that he was supposed to be the perfect light wizard – the people's young hero, the Boy-Who-Lived. Still, even without the extenuating circumstances, being a Parselmouth was something most witches and wizards would be leery of. And now, thanks to him, Neville was one also.

Glancing to the side Harry could tell by his expression that his brother was deep in thought. He wondered just what those thoughts were. Was he upset that he was now a snake-speaker too? Or perhaps sad? Was he angry at Harry for burdening him with this stigma? Did he regret going through with the ritual? Did he wish he had never agreed to become Harry's blood-brother? Before he could think up any more painful possibilities Neville suddenly sat up and opened his mouth to speak. Harry braced himself for the worst-

"I wonder if I could fly a broom now?"

-then blinked in confusion.

"What?" he asked his now excited looking twin.

"Flying?" Neville repeated, "I wonder if I'd be better at it?"

'Well,' Harry thought, 'that wasn't exactly the response I was expecting. Not that I'm objecting any – it's much better than a rejection. But wait- what does he mean by-'

"What do you mean by that?" he asked aloud.

"Well I know I was in the hospital wing and missed it, but from what I heard you were a natural on a broom from your first flight."

"And?" he was confused at the relevance of the topic, "What's that have to do with Parseltongue?"

"Well personally I reckon you were too good at flying too quickly for it to be anything other than a magical gift. And, since I inherited the Parseltongue from you, I was wondering if I inherited any of your Quidditch talent in return."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, finally understanding, and a related thought popped into his mind, "I wonder if I'll have a 'green thumb' now too. Assuming that's a magical talent and not just hard work on your part."

"It was a magical gift," Neville confirmed, "I inherited it from my mother. The 'green thumb' as you call it runs in the Phillipson line. As for whether you'll have inherited it though, you've always been a pretty decent Herbology student anyway."

"That's probably because I spent most of my childhood as Aunt Petunia's personal slave, including serving as her full-time gardener. Still, I might be alright at it but there's a fair difference between 'decent' and 'prodigy'," he pointed out, "Me being the former and you of course being the latter."

He smiled as Neville blushed at the praise.

"Thanks," the blue-eyed twin mumbled.

After another few moments silence Harry finally gathered the nerve to ask the question that was weighing on him.

"So, are you angry at me?"

"Angry?" Neville asked, seemingly having no idea what he was referring to.

"That you're a Parseltongue because of me."

"Oh!" his brother's eyes widened in understanding before his shook his head fiercely, "No! No, definitely not. It's not your fault at all."

"So you don't-" he hesitated, "You don't regret doing the ritual."

Neville immediately twisted in his seat so he faced him more directly and grabbed his upper arm firmly but gently. He leaned in closer, his expression earnest and compassionate.

"Listen to me. Even without the ritual you were the closest thing I've ever had to a brother. Us doing the blood ritual meant more to me than just a convenient disguise, and I know you feel the same," he said, and Harry nodded, admitting that was the truth, "And if I could go back – knowing ahead of time that I'd inherit snake-speaking from you – I'd still do exactly the same thing."

Harry took in his brother's words – and the sincere manner in which he spoke them – and knew they were true. Feeling as though a weight had lifted from him, he let out a relieved breath and smiled a little. Now that their little heart-to-heart was over however, he decided he needed to do something to break up the soppy atmosphere. He glanced down at the hand on his arm then up at the face so close to his own, and smirked internally.

"So," he asked quietly, lacing his voice with shyness and eagerness, "Is this where we kiss?"

Neville immediately released him and bolted to the other end of the couch. Harry took in his blood-brother's horribly flushed face and wide, appalled eyes and was unable to retain his composure. He burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"I- you-" Neville growled, "Evan, you bastard! That was awful."

"Hey, I'll have you know my parents were happily married when I was born."

Neville just snorted and then pouted as Harry continued to laugh at him. After a few more chuckles he finally calmed down enough to speak.

"Don't worry Lea," he punched his brother affably – and completely platonically – on the arm, "I've absolutely no amorous designs on your person."

"Good," the elder twin sighed in relief and the younger's expression flitted quickly from calculating to hurt.

"What do you mean, 'good'? Am I not good enough for you?"

Again Neville was reduced to blushing and stuttering as he tried in vain to assure his brother that he would be a prime romantic target, without insinuating an interest of his own. The blue-eyed wizard's clumsy assurances soon tapered off however as he realised Harry was sniggering at him. He slouched down in his seat and crossed his arms, sending a pouting glare at the amused green eyes.

"Prat," he muttered.

"S-sorry Lea," the younger Franklin apologised through hiccups, "I-I honestly h-have no interest in you that way," he paused then looked at Neville with wide, unconvincingly honest eyes, "You're just not pretty enough for me."

"Hey, I am so pretty," the young man automatically objected then realised what he'd said.

This of course set Harry off yet again and – after a few seconds – Neville joined in. As the two finally got to their feet to attend their cooling dinners, the green-eyed wizard mused that he'd laughed more since coming to this new world than he had in the past several years in his old one.

..ooOOoo..

**Reviews make me happy (hint, hint).**


	7. Chapter 6: Making Plans

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

**Author's Note**: If you've the time, **PLEASE TAKE MY POLL** on my author's page. I'd really like the feedback.  
Also, not to get people's hopes up, this story is still on hold. I just realised I had a chapter from ages ago I'd not got around to posting.

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Making Plans**

**Wed, 5/10/2005**

'Was it really only the day before yesterday I was worried he wouldn't take being a Parselmouth well?' Harry wondered to himself as he divided his attention between eating his breakfast and listening to his brother's excited chatter.

And indeed, it _had_ only been two days since that unexpected revelation. Since then Neville had shocked his younger twin by not only accepting his new ability, but seemingly embracing it wholeheartedly. The reason for this, the blue-eyed brother was currently explaining – well, supposedly at least.

"-could be so useful! I mean, just imagine the possibi-"

"Okay, okay, stop!" Harry finally yelled and Neville's mouth shut abruptly.

"What?" the young man asked, frowning in confusion, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong Lea, is that you've been jabbering on-"

"I was _not_ 'jabber-"

"_Jabbering_ on," he continued, speaking over the objection, "About the supposed 'usefulness' of you being a Parselmouth for the last hour or so."

"It's hardly been an hour," Neville objected, slumping back into his seat, "Maybe five minutes," he added in a mutter, then even more quietly, "Ten, maximum."

"Fine, the last ten minutes then," he rolled his eyes, before getting to his point, "And, as much as I'm relieved you're not worried about your supposed 'dark' ability, I really wish you'd get to the point."

"The point? I've been 'jabbering on' as you put it for ten minutes about the point: Parseltongue will be really useful."

"Exactly!" Harry dropped his spoon and threw his hands in the air, "Ten minutes of 'it will be useful' and 'it's fascinating' and 'just imagine what I could learn," he sighed in exasperation and dropped his hands, leaning forwards over the table, "But you haven't yet explained _why_ it's so fascinating and useful or _what_ it is you plan to learn."

Neville gaped for a moment – his mouth opening and closing soundlessly – before he paused and began to flush red in embarrassment.

"Oh, right," he said quietly, smiling sheepishly as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, "Er, sorry. I guess I was a little overexcited and got carried away."

Harry smiled at his friend's chagrined and contrite expression before picking up his spoon again and returning to his breakfast.

"S'ok," he reassured, after swallowing a spoonful of porridge, "Just – you know – explain it properly to me now."

"Right," Neville said, straightening up in his seat and regaining the excited light in his eyes, "Well, you know how I've been interested in healing lately?"

"Haven't you always been?"

"Well, yes. But lately I've been a bit more serious about it," he clarified and Harry nodded, "Well there's this theory about Parseltongue that the Parselscript book we have might support."

"The Noble Arte of Healing?" he asked, reciting the title and Neville nodded.

"Exactly. The theory is that there is a relation between Parseltongue and healing. You see, throughout history snakes have been know to symbolise a lot of different things but some pretty consistent ones are protectors, fertility, birth, regeneration and _healing_."

"Really?" the green-eyed twin asked, scepticism clear in his voice, "That doesn't sound quite as Slytherin as I would've expected."

"Well," Neville reluctantly admitted, "They've also been known for intelligence, cunning, lies, deceit, poison and revenge-"

"That sounds more like it."

"-but!" Neville continued loudly, "That doesn't make them any less a symbol for healing. In fact, there was a wizard in ancient Greek times called Asclepius who was known as the demigod of medicine and healing who-"

"Wait," Harry interrupted, blinking in surprise and confusion, "This wizard was a 'demigod'?"

"Well, I say demigod but really he was just a mortal wizard. All the gods in the ancient Greek and Roman pantheons were actually wizards and witches. In those days we used to basically rule over the Muggles as gods. Similar things used to happen in other places – the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt for one."

"So all those gods – Zeus, Poseidon, Cupid, Aphrodite, all of them – were real?"

"Yep."

"But-" he frowned, struggling to understand this new fact, "But how did they live so long? I mean the 'gods' were around for quite a while, right? And you said before that they were mortal, so…"

"Oh, well the position was a hereditary thing. When the original god got too old or died someone else suited to the position took over. They also tended to use the original's name and a basic glamour when with the Muggles to make them believe they were truly immortal," Neville explained and he nodded in understanding.

"Right. Now, back to this clay-pious fellow-"

He snorted, "It's Asclepius, Evan; not clay-pious."

"Aas-kley-pee-us," he sounded it out slowly and Neville nodded that he'd gotten it right, "I was close at least," he muttered but was ignored as his brother continued.

"Now what I was going to say about him was that he was known for having a serpent familiar which he took nearly everywhere with him. It used to curl around his walking staff. In fact, the image of his staff with the serpent entwined around it came to be know as the Rod of Asclepius, and a symbol of medicine," he paused then before adding, "And astrology."

Harry frowned, "Astrology? What does that have to do with healing?"

"Nothing much," Neville admitted.

"Isn't it a bit odd that it symbolised the both of them then?"

"Actually it's not as surprising as you would expect given Asclepius was supposedly raised by the Centaur Chiron. Chiron was – apart from being responsible for Asclepius' education in healing – a great healer in his own right _and_ an astrologer. Asclepius probably learnt some astrology from him as well. Now, where was I up to? Right, the Rod of Asclepius."

"Wait," Harry interrupted yet again, "I think I've actually seen that before. I think it's used in the Muggle world for doctor surgeries and such. It's like a staff with wings and two snakes entwined about it, right?"

He looked up from his bowl at the silence to find a very perturbed look on Neville's fact.

"A winged staff with two snakes?" the blue-eyed twin asked to clarify.

"Yeees…" he said slowly, trailing off, "Is that not it?"

He shook his head, "No, that's the Caduceus. Also known as the Wand of Hermes. Hermes was the wizard-god of commerce, cunning, invention and theft," his lips then quirked in amusement "Not exactly the sort of message a healer's practice should want to give."

Harry snorted in entertained agreement.

"So why do they use it do you suppose?"

Neville shrugged, "Not sure. Probably someone somewhere must have gotten the two mixed up – or else decided the Caduceus was similar enough but prettier – and everybody blindly followed along," he laughed.

"People are sheep," Harry said, the theory making perfect sense to him, "So, as interesting as all this is – and surprisingly it is – what does all this have to do with Asclepius having a serpent staff thingy?"

"Well," Neville said, his expression clearly showing his fascination for the topic, "Even though no definite information still exists, it's widely rumoured and theorised that the 'demigod' was a Parselmouth!"

"Really?"

He nodded eagerly, "Plus, Asclepius had ten children all up. Six were daughters – Hygieia, Meditrina, Panacea, Aceso, Iaso and Aglaea – and four were sons – Machaon, Telesphoros, Podalirius and Aratus. Of those ten, wizarding records show that eight were also associated with _both_ serpents and healing and the other two – Aglaea and Aratus – were associated with neither. From that, it's reasonable to assume that most of his children inherited the talent. And given those who seemingly didn't had nothing to do with healing while the others all did, it's an almost certain indicator that there's a direct link between Parseltongue and medicine.

"Personally," he added excitedly, "I wonder if maybe certain magics in the snake language are for some reason more effective at healing. It wouldn't be the first time a magical language excels at a certain area of magic. History shows that Avistongue – that's bird language – was known to be excellent for air magics, like controlling winds or calling up or dispersing storms. Another one is Arachnidatongue – a spider language – which is suited to handicrafts like sewing, crocheting, knitting – basically anything involving weaving. It's ironically fitting if you think about it. Anyway, now that I'm a Parselmouth myself, I might be able to find out if the snake language has an affinity of its own!"

His positive reaction to his new talent finally explained, Neville finally dug into his breakfast, is mind imagining the possibilities all the while.

After several long minutes of silence he glanced up and paused – toast halfway to his mouth – as he realised Harry was staring at him silently with an odd expression. If he had to guess he would say it was a mixture of surprised, speculative and confused.

"What?" he finally asked, putting his toast back on his plate.

"Nothing it's just-" he paused, his face acquiring a bewildered look, "Where in Merlin's name did all this sudden knowledge of yours come from?"

Neville flushed at the incredulous but undeniably impressed tone to the question.

"Er, well y-you see," he stuttered, "B-before Hogwarts when all my lessons w-were at home, History was- well, it was my second favourite thing to learn."

"Let me guess, Herbology came first?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, "I was really disappointed when we finally had our first History of Magic class. I'd really been looking forward to it and when it finally arrived I found out that the teacher was not only a complete bore but also taught nothing but the Goblin rebellions."

"Why did you never say anything? You could have tried to organise a study group or a history club."

He shrugged, "Well firstly, I was a bit shy back then-"

"A bit?" Harry snorted at the understatement.

"Fine – I was _terribly_ shy back then. And secondly, everyone had pretty much decided that History of Magic was 'uncool' and I suppose didn't want to draw any attention to my interest in it in case people teased me about it," he admitted abashedly.

"Ah," was all Harry said, understanding perfectly.

Conversation over, they both turned back to their meals, eating together in companionable silence. After a few minutes an idea occurred to the younger of the two and green eyes subtly glanced up, taking in the wizard seated opposite. Seeing that Neville was completely engrossed in his sausages, Harry gave a small smirk and glanced back down. He took a deep breath, then – in a smooth movement – dipped his spoon in his porridge, bent it back towards himself with one finger, released the finger and swiftly replaced the spoon in his bowl.

At the surprised squeak that followed he unhurriedly lifted his spoon to his mouth and looked up innocently – before bursting into laughter.

"I- you- it-" Neville spluttered, looking quite dismayed at suddenly being covered with soggy oats.

Seeing a glare beginning to form among the goop, Harry realised he needed to act quickly and convincingly if he was to avoid retaliation.

"How on earth did you manage to do that?" he asked between laughs, setting his spoon down.

He watched as the messy wizard frowned in puzzlement, following Harry's intentionally positioned spoon back to its bowl. It seemed his deception was working as his porridge-faced brother turned his attention away from his twin's seemingly innocent eating utensil and focussed on the ones set before himself instead. Neville stared in bafflement at the spoon buried in his own bowl of porridge, sticking out of the cereal near his left elbow.

"I- I guess I must have knocked my spoon with my elbow…" he trailed of, sounding utterly perplexed, "Or something…"

"Only you Lea, could be that clumsy," Harry laughed loudly, continuing to play along.

Neville just huffed, finally reaching for a tea towel to wipe off his face. When it was finally clean he set it aside, glared once at his porridge, and pushed it to the far end of the table. Then – determinedly ignoring his brother's continuing laughter – he returned to his abandoned sausages, a slight pout on his lips.

Meanwhile Harry smirked and prepared his spoon again, uncaring of the fact that his victim would not be so easily tricked a second time.

..ooOOoo..

**Fri, 7/10/2005**

Harry sat in the corner of the greenhouse as his twin worked happily away, humming a tune and pruning an odd purple vine that seemed determined to groom his hair. Giving a small smile at the sight he turned back to his book and shifted slightly on his seat. His smile widened further at the memory of just why a chair and bench was set up in the greenhouse in the first place. Neville had eventually installed them both after the fifth time Harry had come in to read, claiming that if he didn't do something soon the green-eyed wizard would either flatten the plants or – if he was particularly careless in seating choice – they would flatten him.

Finding a comfortable position, he flipped the page in his book – 'The Primitive Magic of Magical Creatures' – reading absently about something called Pyromancy which involved divination by fire.

When he had first started reading the tome, his primary interest had been the chapters on song and dance magics that had been brought to his attention by Griphook. They had after all been the topics that provoked him into buying the text in the first place. As expected, he had found the information completely fascinating. Unfortunately however, whilst the grace he had learnt in fighting seemed to translate reasonably well to dancing, the fact remained that his singing voice was far less talented. Neville had compared it to nails on a chalkboard. Harry couldn't reasonably object.

So, given that nearly all the dance magics required accompanying song – or at the least chanting – he had given up on those two particular arts and begun reading about the others the book wrote of. He was currently reading about old Divination methods and, despite his distaste for the subject in his Hogwarts days – not to mention the obvious connections with prophecies – was finding it rather interesting.

He glanced up as his friend gave one last snip with the shears before setting them down and coming over to perch upon the bench on his left. After a few minutes he again flipped the page and once more glanced up, taking in his brother's expression.

"Spit it out," he ordered distractedly, continuing with his reading as he did so.

"What?" Neville turned to face him in surprise, "Spit what out?"

"Whatever it is that's got that look on your face."

"What look?"

Heaving an overdone sigh he tucked his bookmark between the pages and closed the book in his lap. He knew he wouldn't likely be able to continue his reading in peace until this was cleared up.

"That look that says you're thinking about something and want to talk about it."

"I have a look for that?"

"Yes, you do."

"Oh."

"Well?" he demanded after the silence had stretched too long for his tastes, "Explain already."

"Well, it's about the study I've been doing in healing," Neville began, biting nervously at his fingernails.

"What about it?"

"See the thing is, I was thinking that maybe," he paused for a deep breath before finishing in a babble, "MaybeIcouldactuallybecomeaHealerforreal."

There was then quiet for a bit as Harry blinked rapidly, trying to decipher what had been said. Finally he gave up.

"Look, you're going to have to repeat that."

"I said, maybeIcou-"

"Ack!" he interrupted, holding up a hand, "Let me clarify. You're going to have to repeat that _slowly_."

"Oh! Right, sorry," Neville blushed before obeying, "I was thinking that, maybe I could actually become a Healer for real."

Harry stared for a moment before cocking his head to the side considering.

"You mean apply to St Mungo's or something?"

"Yeah."

Seeing that his friend was again biting his fingernails and seemed to be nervously awaiting his reaction, he gave the idea serious thought before quickly coming to a conclusion.

"Go for it then."

"Really?" Neville asked, his expression brightening.

"Sure, why not?" he shrugged, "I mean, you never had any formal training in the war and you managed to keep us all patched up pretty well. I'd imagine with the chance to learn properly you'd be brilliant at it."

"Really?" he repeated.

"Absolutely," Harry said firmly and his friend grinned widely at the approval, "So, how long have you been thinking about this?"

"Well, since shortly after you brought home the Parselscript book," at the cocked eyebrow Neville explained, "I kept having all these thoughts about all the good that could be done by bringing some of the Parseltongue spells back into common knowledge. Even the few actually listed in the book sound to be a lot more effective than the tradition Latin ones that are normally used. Just imagine how many people could be helped."

"That's our Nev, always thinking of others. Any day now you'll start saving the world, one puppy at a time," he smiled and the wizard in question flushed, "Sorry, I shouldn't tease. You've got a good heart Lea. 'S Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Thanks," he mumbled and blushed even more fiercely before clearly deciding to ignore the comments and return to the previous topic, "So, I was thinking up all these 'grand plans' when I realised that even if the spells are superior, people – especially experienced Healers – wouldn't take too well to some newcomer barging in telling them he knows a better way of doing things."

"Not to mention that that better way is Parseltongue," Harry added ominously, "They'd probably sooner lock you up than listen to what you have to say the moment you mention you're a Parselmouth."

A nod, "Exactly. Plus, unlike our original world we don't really know anyone here who would stand up to support our intentions."

"There's the twins," the younger suggested before pausing and shaking his head, "No, ignore that. As much as we might know them well, they don't really know us yet. They've only met us the once so far."

"Plus, they're not exactly the sort most people would trust the opinions of," Neville added and he could not disagree, "Someone like my Gran would have been good. Back when she was alive she was very well respected. Even people who didn't like her-"

"-or were intimidated by her," Harry added, remembering his few meetings with the formidable woman before her death.

A snort, "Yeah, or were intimated by her. Anyway, they all still respected her and held her opinion in high regard."

"So you're thinking you'd need something like a good character witness then?"

"Character witness?" he asked, not recognising the Muggle term.

"Basically someone who could vouch for us not being 'dark, evil wizards' and they'd be listened to."

"Yeah, exactly that. So, knowing that I wouldn't be able to come right out with it, I thought maybe it would be better to just start working at the hospital. I figure that I could work my way up to becoming a certified Healer and then slowly try to introduce the idea of Parseltongue spells. That way, not only would I have qualifications backing me up, I'd also hopefully have made some contacts among the other Healers and trainee Healers and they might consider my suggestions more than they would if I were a stranger."

Finally finished he looked down from his perch on the bench to see his brother's reaction. Harry gave an impressed whistle.

"I have to say that sounds like a brilliant idea. I'm surprised you thought of it-"

"Hey!"

"No, no, I don't mean it like that," he rolled his eyes, "You're just not usually very good at the sneaky, manipulating the situation type stuff. Brave? Yes. Honourable? Yes. Loyal? To a fault. But cunning? Never quite been your forte."

"Well actually," Neville admitted embarrassedly, "I got the idea from a plan you made in the war. It was for when we were supposed to try to gather intelligence at that pub in Knockturn. You remember – the one where the Death Eaters visited a lot?"

"Really?" he asked, surprised eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, you said we should make a habit of dropping by for drinks and getting to know the regulars before trying to seriously approach any Death Eaters. That way the regulars would vouch for us being frequent customers ourselves and not just there for information. I figured that could sort of translate to my situation. Get to know the usual Healers and such so they'd not be so suspicious of me."

"Ah," he nodded, now understanding, "Clever. So, do you actually want to work there? I thought at first you did but now… Is it just the only way you can think of to introduce Parselspells?"

"Parselspells?"

"I just made it up. Go with it," he ordered with a shrug and Neville's lips quirked in amusement.

"Okay, 'Parselspells' it is then. Fitting. As to your question," he paused to consider before for replying seriously, "I think it's something I really want to do. I remember in fifth year when we had careers advice with McGonagall there were three things that really interested me. One was an Auror because I wanted to help in the war. I'd never really seriously considered it before that year because I didn't think I'd be good enough."

"Seriously?" Harry snorted, "We've fought together many a time Lea and you could kick most Ministry trained Auror's butts."

"I can _now_, but back before your training in the DA I was hopeless."

"You just needed a little push and some positive encouragement is all."

"Which you gave."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm wonderful," Harry drawled, "Now get back to those other two options before this gets mushy and you start gushing like a schoolgirl."

A snort, "Of course. So, the other two careers that interested me were either starting my own commercial greenhouse-"

"You'd be brilliant at that," he interrupted to comment, "I take it the last option was becoming a Healer?"

"Yep. But of the three I thought the greenhouse was the only one that I'd be able to do. In fact I'm still not sure if I'd be accepted into Healer training."

"What? Why not?" Harry asked and watched Neville suddenly slump and release a sigh.

"Potions," he said glumly, "You need an Exceeds Expectations N.E.W.T. in Potions to qualify for the Healer training program."

"Ah," was all he could think to say, "So, aside from the fact that we didn't stick around long enough to get N.E.W.T.s in the first place, how were you planning to-"

"Mediwizard training," Neville interrupted, anticipating his question, "The entrance requirements for it are somewhat less demanding than the Healer program. I'd be able to get in with good Herbology marks to make up for the Potions one."

"Okay, I'm confused," Harry frowned, "This is probably another of those things I should know but don't. What's the difference between the two?"

"In Muggle terms a Healer is like a fully qualified physician while a Mediwizard or Mediwitch are more the level of a medic."

"I see," he nodded, "So you were thinking about becoming a Mediwizard, not an actual Healer."

"Actually, there's an allowance where if a Mediwizard has served for five consecutive years and can get a positive reference from a superior they can apply for the Healer's program."

"So you're planning to work your way up then?" he asked and his blue-eyed friend nodded, "Sounds a bit drawn-out to me."

"Well, it's either that or somehow miraculously achieve an E grade in Potions," Neville said, with a sigh.

"I still think most of your problems with the subject were because of Snape. You're way too good at Herbology to be so bad at potions making – not with all the obvious connections between the two. In fact, why don't you just give it a try? Maybe get a tutor who won't spend all his time trying to intimidate you and will actually teach properly. Who knows, you might be able to get the grade."

"I don't know," Neville said, sounding sceptical.

"Come one, what's the worse that could happen? You fail? On the other hand though you could get it and save yourself five years of boring Mediwizard work."

"Five and a half actually."

"What?"

"Well it's six months training and then the five years as an actual Mediwizard."

"Well, that just makes my point more relevant," he stated.

Seeing that his brother still looked hesitant Harry groaned. He twisted sideways in his chair and looked up at his twin, staring him directly in the eye

"Leander, just trust me and give it a try, alright?"

There was a moment of indecision before the elder twin finally caved and nodded his agreement. He grinned in satisfaction at his success and twisted back around so his was once more seated comfortably. As he contemplated opening his book up again, a complication occurred to him.

"We don't exist," he said simply, drawing a baffled look, "I mean in this world we don't exist anywhere officially – apart from at Gringotts obviously. The Ministry of Magic here doesn't have any record of us and that means no O.W.L. scores. Can you even take N.E.W.T. exams when you supposedly haven't tested for your O.W.L.s yet?"

"Oh," Neville breathed, eyes going wide with realisation, "No, you can't."

"So if you want to get into St Mungo's you'll have to do your O.W.L.s as well as N.E.W.T.s."

A nod, "Yeah but it's bigger than that. Like you said we're not on record at the Ministry at all; not even as students. Getting tested for exams is going to be a lot more complicated than just having to redo the O.W.L.s first."

"How so?"

"Well, most Muggle-borns are registered as magical citizens automatically when they attend Hogwarts, but since we didn't…" he trailed off.

"Wait, so if some child's parents wanted them to finish their Muggle education instead of attending a wizarding school, the kid can't even decide to enter the wizarding world later when they get older?"

"No- I mean yes- I mean," he paused to gather his thoughts, "If the child's guardian hires a Ministry approved tutor for them they also become registered citizens-"

"Which means our 'supposed' tutors can't have been Ministry approved, else we would be official already."

"You're right; they can't have been. But as I was going to say, apart from that someone _can_ be granted citizenship late but there'll be a large fee and a lot of paperwork."

"Paperwork?" Harry pulled a face, "Please tell me you can take care of that for us."

Neville shook his head but before Harry could groan about it he explained.

"No we'll have to hire a Law-wizard or witch to make sure everything goes smoothly."

"What about that? Can you handle that for us? I wouldn't know where to look to find one of those."

"Sure," he nodded, "There will be registers at both the Ministry and Gringotts."

"Best go with Gringotts," the smaller twin suggested, "The Ministry probably only advertises their personal lackeys."

A snort, "True. In fact, I'm pretty much finished in here so I think I'll head over to the bank as soon as I've repotted that Gobbing Fern," Neville declared as he suddenly got to his feet.

"Yeah… you have fun with that," Harry said grimacing at the plant in question and standing up also, "I'm going to head inside before that thing starts spitting everywhere."

Then, ignoring Neville's defence of the disgusting flora, he picked up his book and headed back to the house.

..ooOOoo..

"Sooooo," Harry drawled.

I was later Friday evening and the boys were settled on the rug before the living room fire, playing a game of wizard's chess across the coffee table. Neville had been his favourite chess opponent ever since the first time they had played. This was mainly because the former Longbottom was – despite having grown up with the game – just as bad at it as Harry himself. In fact, the green-eyed wizard had only ever found two others as clueless at wizard's chess as he and Neville were. Those two had been Dobby and Luna. Unfortunately, the pair's playing style, in which they would move their pieces in completely arbitrary directions, used to – for some incomprehensible reason – win them almost as many games as they lost. Matches between the blonde and the house-elf had always been both entertaining and perplexing to watch.

"Sooooo," Harry said once again.

Neville – who had been attempting to concentrate on the game to determine his next move – gave an annoyed sigh. He decided to simply order his remaining rook to move forward and then finally looked up.

"Yes?" he asked, clearly annoyed at having his focus interrupted.

"You never did tell me how it went at Gringotts."

"What?"

"The lawyer."

"Oh, that!" he exclaimed, finally paying proper attention to the conversation.

"Yes, _that_," the younger brother shot back but the other – quite used to the sarcasm – merely ignored the comment.

"Well, I checked out the lists and narrowed it down to a few that I remembered as having good reputations in our world."

"That doesn't necessarily mean they would here as well though," Harry cautioned and his friend nodded.

"I thought of that, which is why I took the list to Griphook and asked him if anyone on the list stood out to him. He recommended two. One was a Law-wizard from a large practice that he described as very discrete and willing to work on any issue. He was also known for going to any lengths to get results – provided they were well compensated of course," he wrinkled his nose, "Sounded a bit questionable if you know what I mean. I swear, I think I remember his alternate from home having served the Malfoy's on quite a few cases."

"Urgh, no. Definitely not the sort we want to be involved with then."

"I didn't think so either. The other was a Law-witch from a small practice with business in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. She's reasonably priced, though not cheap. He described her as also very discreet, good at what she does, and also morally minded. Griphook indicated that she would probably decline if we were involved in anything questionable, though she'd keep it to herself."

Harry was nodding, "Sounds promising. What's her name?"

"Andromeda Tonks of 'Tonks & Tonks Law Practice'," at his brother's surprised expression Neville nodded, "Yep, she's Nymphadora Tonks' mother I believe. If she's anything like in our world she should be trustworthy enough to hire. Gran used to speak well of her and apparently she and her husband Ted – he's a Muggle-born wizard and handles a Muggle side of the business – are not terribly huge fans of Dumbledore."

"Really? You wouldn't have guessed what with Tonks having been in the Order."

"Well, Mrs Tonks was subtle about it from what I gathered. Probably Tonks didn't know and when she went to Hogwarts she was sucked into the Dumbledore-is-great mindset like most everyone else there is," he guessed with a shrug and Harry nodded.

"So, when are we seeing her?"

"Griphook agreed to send a letter off on our behalf – it's just the more professional way of doing it – and said when he gets a reply he'll forward it along to us."

"Okay," said Harry before looking down at the game board and grinning, "Oh and Lea?"

"Yes?"

"Check… mate!"

"What? That's so not fair! You distracted me that last move!"

..ooOOoo..

**Tue, 11/10/2005**

_Mister Leander Philip Franklin,_

_Enclosed is the reply from Law-witch Andromeda Tonks. Her response was positive and appointment details are in the attached letter._

_If there is any other business I can assist you or your brother in, you need only ask._

_Yours in business,_

_Griphook_

_Franklin-Evan Account Manager_

_Franklin-Leander Account Manager_

…

The enclosed letter read:

_Tonks & Tonks Law Practice_

_Messrs Evan and Leander Franklin,_

_I am writing in response to the letter received from your Account Manager – one Goblin Griphook – to inform you that I would be pleased to meet with you both to discuss what legal business I may assist you in._

_I am soonest available this coming Thursday, 13th October, 2005 at precisely ten o'clock. Should this time and/or date be inconvenient for you, please send a reply as soon as possible so that we may reschedule._

_Fees and other business will be discussed at the appointment. Street and Floo address as well as Apparition point coordinates of our offices can be found at the bottom of this letter._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Andromeda Tonks_

_Law-witch, Tonks & Tonks Law Practice_

..ooOOoo..

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